


Just Hold On

by louhearted



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Thieves, Blow Jobs, Dry Humping, Light BDSM, M/M, Rimming, Thief Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 08:33:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 43,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9226868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louhearted/pseuds/louhearted
Summary: 'You found me hanging by my fingertips from your window and I don’t want to tell you I was trying to rob you, but idk how else to explain this and I don’t want to go to jail and also you’re kind of cute we should make out when I'm not clinging onto your window ledge for my life’ AU“Why are you hanging from my window sill?”A long moment of silence followed. Harry watched as the dainty hands on his window flexed and strengthened their hold.“Parkour?” Came a meek reply and Harry had to bite his lip to stifle his giggle.“I don't believe you,” he said with the firmest tone he could manage at the moment, which wasn't very threatening at all.“Could you just open the window please? We can discuss the how and when as soon as I'm not dangling almost 30 feet over the ground.”“Were you trying to rob me?”“No?”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starrynightlou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrynightlou/gifts).



> this story.... oh wow. this exchange was supposed to be easy because we had an entire year to write it but... to be honest this baby only fully came to life in the past three months. actually... the past four weeks have really made this into what it is now. a 43k monster. I really don't know when I lost control over this story so much?? I really really hope that you like it dear starrynightlou!! your prompt kind of.... it spiralled into something much bigger than i had planned hahaha but I hope you still like it <3 <3 <3

 

Louis wished he could blame someone else for the predicament he currently found himself in. He wished he could say it had been a dare, or maybe he had been threatened, maybe someone had taken his entire family hostage and this was just a trial he had to pass before he could see them again.

But it was none of that. There was no one else to blame. It was all on him. It was all his fault. His own stupidity and his own arrogance really.

 

He changed the grip of his fingers. His sweaty palms squeaking against the precariously bending plastic of the window ledge.

 

His own damn fault.

 

 

This was like Monaco all over again, only that this time he was a) liable to prosecution and b) literally hanging onto for dear life.

 

Monaco had been in 2004. Monaco had been a mistake. This was a disaster.

 

Grinding his teeth and trying to find some kind of footing on the wall in front of him (it always worked in films, why did this wall have to be as slick as glass?), Louis remembered what a friend in the business had once said to him, smirking, with a whiskey glass dangling between his perfectly manicured fingers and his tinted glasses dangling in the collar of his over prized and overly glittery shirt.

 

“Your lack of preparation is going to be the death of you, Tomlinson. They are going to catch you faster than Greg does STDs.”

 

“I don't think your henchman would appreciate that kind of slander, Nick.”

 

“Greg isn't my henchman, he's my grifter. There's not one violent bone in his body.”

 

“It is amazing how one person can miss the point so spectacularly.”

 

The tall man in front of him set down his tumbler and sighed, as if dealing with Louis was a chore, not like he had approached Louis in the first place.

 

“The point is, sweetie, that you need to be more careful. You and your gut feeling just isn't enough to climb the ranks. With your big heart, no ones going to take you seriously.”

 

“I thought you liked big things?”

 

And that had been that. A lot of their conversations had actually ended in rough sex in some dark alley or sometimes in a lavish hotel suit, when the other thief had felt exceedingly generous. The two of them had never really found a middle ground. It was either bickering and condescending conversations, or two hours of wild sex. It worked for them.

 

But reminding himself of his past mistakes wouldn't help Louis now. Realising that his friend had been right in the end evoked an emotional cocktail so particularly nasty, that it only worsened Louis ' mood and he was currently hanging three stories above the ground. A very heavily cemented ground.

 

If he could just keep a calm head, maybe he would find some kind of solution. Quite obviously he couldn't pull himself up. Not only was the state of his biceps too abysmal for that sort of heroism but also, and that was the reason that had actually messed up his plans in the first place: there was someone inside.

 

Now, yes, go on, laugh. Who tries to rob someone and doesn't even check to see if they are at home or not?

 

Well just for the record, Louis had checked. And just to be absolutely clear. His record was spotless. No criminal record, no mug shots, not even a speeding ticket.

 

But there he was. The bane of his existence and probably the reason he would fall to his death.

 

The resident of flat 304, regular jogger, receiver of the _delicious_ baking magazine, ardent Packers fan, who did his weekly shopping in the Sainsbury two blocks away from here, clumsier than the approximately 46 puppies he has stopped for, petting them with very large hands - The resident of apartment 304, that was definitely supposed to be on vacation this week. Louis had done his research!

 

He knew that in this small and comfortable looking three room apartment was the original painting of the Waterloo Bridge by Claude Monet, hidden under several layers of plastic wrap and even more layers of paint that showed something as hideously boring as a forest. It was the perfect hiding place. A picture hidden inside a picture, left hanging in a rented flat, where the new tenant would just leave it hanging, happy about the small personal touch amongst all the cardboard boxes and cartons.

 

And his plan to relieve said tenant of his fake aesthetic picture had been organized to a T. Nick and his prejudices about Louis' spontaneous nature being his downfall be damned. Louis had a whole white board full of scribbles standing in his living room, documenting step A to G meticulously.

 

Trying to hide a groan of pain, his arms slowly starting to tremble from the effort, Louis changed his grip again. He was going to have to get help somehow.

 

 

 

With a groan Harry let himself fall backwards onto his bed, the phone he had in his hand jumping uselessly from his slack grip and bouncing around on his mattress.

 

Gemma was obviously pissed at him for cancelling. Like it was his fault! He didn't ask for a relapse of his cold, of course he didn't. (Maybe he had not taken it very seriously and had started working again as soon as the fever had hit a relatively normal temperature – read: not deadly – but still. He hadn't asked to be sick.) And it's not like Gemma had to travel to France alone now, Harry would have been the third wheel one way or another, seeing as his sister had had this trip planned with her long term boyfriend in the first place and in Harry's opinion only asked him along because she pitied Harry and his single status. So, spending two weeks with the two of them canoodling, while also having to listen to date tips? No thank you.

 

He would get his revenge by welcoming her home with a ring on her finger. A proposal was bound to happen. Even more likely to happen now, that Harry wasn't around.

 

He was a good little brother. Gemma and her bad mood be damned.

 

He sniffled and turned onto his side, his legs uselessly kicking against his comforter as he tried to get the blanket to cover himself.

 

Needless to say, it didn't work out the way he wanted it to and so, with a guttural groan he sat up and started tugging at the sheets. And that was when he heard it. A soft “Excuse me”. Bewildered Harry tapped at his phone's screen, lighting it up again, checking if maybe Gemma was still on the line, but no he had hung up. Again, a bit more pointedly: “Ex _cuse_ me”. Slowly, as if in trance Harry pressed his hand against his forehead, trying to feel his temperature. Maybe his fever had spiked again, maybe he was hallucinating. But he seemed fine. Closing his eyes he held his nose closed and exhaled, trying to get the pressure off his ears, trying to clear them, because maybe what he had heard was just them ringing.

 

It wasn't.

 

The weird thing about it was that the noise didn't come from the door. It came from outside. From the window. But Harry was living three flights up, so that was impossible. The only thing he was supposed to hear from the street was cars honking and dogs barking and the sporadical crying child.

 

Definitely not a man's voice excusing himself repeatedly, his tone increasing in urgency.

 

Slowly Harry entangled himself from his blankets and stood up, his phone still clutched tightly to his chest, his subconsciousness supplying him with ways in which it could be used as a weapon. There weren't a lot of options.

 

About half a step away from his bedroom window Harry leaned forward and swallowed up his own spit, coughing when it got down the wrong pipe, because those were hands on his window ledge. Definitely hands.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Oh thank god,” the voice whispered and then a bit louder. “Hi, could you by any chance help me out here?”

 

Curiosity peaked, Harry crept closer to the window and now he could also see a mob of brown hair.

 

“Why are you hanging from my window sill?”

 

A long moment of silence followed. Harry watched as the dainty hands on his window flexed and strengthened their hold.

 

“Parkour?” Came a meek reply and Harry had to bite his lip to stifle his giggle.

 

“I don't believe you,” he said with the firmest tone he could manage at the moment, which wasn't very threatening at all.

 

“Could you just open the window please? We can discuss the how and when as soon as I'm not dangling almost 30 feet over the ground.”

 

Compelled by the absurdity of the situation Harry opened the window, leaning out and down, finding the grinning face of a man not much older than him. There was sweat slowly dripping down his temples, most certainly because of the strain that holding on like that must put on his body, but his face was still relatively relaxed, the smile playing around the edges of his mouth, which crinkled the edges of his eyes, just as natural as the sun shining orange behind him.

 

“Were you trying to rob me?” Harry asked and even though his fingers twitched with the need to hoist the man up and bring him to safety, something was holding him back. He was trying to convince himself that it was common sense, because this man might as well be dangerous, but deep down he knew that it was something else. Desperate fascination.

 

“No?” The man's voice titled up at the end, turning the word as much into a question as it did into an answer.

 

“You were, admit it.”

 

“What could I possibly want to steal from you? This isn't exactly the Mayfair.”

 

“Now, see, that's actually my next question. You can't have that one.” Harry didn't try to hide his smile any more, and he could feel his dimple deepen under his palm on which he had pillared his head, his elbows resting on the other side of the ledge.

 

“Fine, fine I might have tried to rob _someone_ in this complex.” The man's face contorted as if he were in pain, his snob nose crinkling endearingly. Harry felt like Rapunzel reborn.

 

“I should just call the police then, should I?”

 

The robber's eyes widened comically and he spluttered, fish mouthing before he could say anything. “You seem like a nice guy, you wouldn't call the cops on a failed robber would you?”

 

“Nice guys usually do that, though. Uphold the law and all that.”

 

“I didn't break any laws! This is a failed robbery. Everything up to this point is completely legal!”

 

Harry punched out a laugh and slapped his hand over his mouth in embarrassment at the noise that he had made.

 

“I've never made that noise before,” he swore in a muffled tone, his hand still blocking his lips, as he stared at the other man in horror.

 

“You're kinda cute, you know that?”

 

Harry's eyes widened comically and he dropped his hand.

 

“Are you trying to flirt with me? So that I'll help you?”

 

The dangling man grimaced and shook his head. “No, oh god, did it sound like that? No, I mean, yes I would really appreciate it if you could hoist me up soon because I think I can't feel my hands any more? Which can't be a good sign, if you ask me, but that was just… I mean that's still true. You are very cute, but I wouldn't – I'm not that shallow. Or mean. That would be just mean.”

 

What followed was a moment of silence between the two men, where both of them just looked at each other. Assessing the other party. Harry saw the genuine worry in his intruder's eyes that he might have offended him, saw how against all the strength channelled into his own survival, the soft feelings towards Harry still shone through. In the blue of his eyes, those rare moments of guilt and compassion shone through like dolphins did under the stormy surface of the sea. In other words Harry was mesmerized.

 

“Come here, then,” he said and leaned down to take a hold of his wrists, his hands engulfing them entirely.

 

“On three?” The robber asked meekly and Harry could feel the tremble of his muscles run down to his fingertips, in preparation for what was to come.

 

“One, two -” And Harry pulled. His feet skidded across his floor until his toes were smashed against the wall, but he didn't focus on that. He just leaned back. And back and back and – lost his balance as suddenly a weight crashed against him and brought him down to the floor.

 

“Three.” Someone laughed into his ear and the warm breath of his voice made Harry shudder involuntary. Blinking he tried to focus on the face above him.

 

He was greeted by a bright smile, sharp and pointy teeth on display. “Hi.”

 

“Oops,” Harry whispered in response and still none of them moved.

 

 

 

“This could have been done a lot more graceful, I suppose.” The boy of 304 said, his green eyes flickering over Louis' face, his hands still loosely holding on to his wrists.

 

“You did all right.” Louis didn't want to sit up, his body too tired, his muscles too sore to even consider moving at all, but the heat of the body underneath him was too tempting and too hot to stay. This was a line he wouldn't cross. It would mess up everything.

 

And so he straightened himself up, pushing himself first to all fours before he pushed away, backing against the wall, where he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Just now the adrenalin was really getting to him. The bone deep tiredness he could start creeping in a sure sign that the superpowers he had started fascinating about just a few minutes ago were leaving him just as fast as they had appeared.

 

When he blinked his eyes open again he found Harry still lying on the floor, spread eagle, his eyes also closed, his chest moving as if a dragon was lying on the hardwood floor instead. Heavy, deep and controlled breaths.

 

“Are you okay?” Louis couldn't help himself but ask and grimaced when his head thudded against the wall behind him. Apparently he had been sitting closer to it than he had realized.

 

“Yeah, I'm fine. You?” The boy rearranged his limbs into something resembling a sitting position, his long legs too gangly to make it look organized.

 

“I'm knackered, man.”

 

They giggled. Harry with a dimple popping out in his cheek, his two front teeth pressing into his bottom lip as he tried to stifle the noises he made.

 

Louis hadn't been lying when he had called Harry cute. It wasn't something he had noticed when he had tailed him, it hadn't been important then, but he was well aware of it now. The dark brown hair tied into a loose bun, the green eyes, the big mouth, caged in by those dimples – yeah Louis would be lying if he said that he wasn't charmed by tenant 304.

 

“I'm Louis by the way,” he said after a while and offered Harry his hand, which he grasped immediately. His palms slightly sweaty against his own, but Louis didn't mind, too preoccupied by the size difference of their limbs.

 

“Isn't it, like, unwise to tell me your name? I could still incriminate you.”

 

“Didn't tell you my last name now did I? And I have a feeling that you won't do that anyway.”

 

They dropped their hands and Harry cocked his head, a curl falling loose from the confinements of his hair tie.

 

“You seem very sure of yourself.”

 

“That's part of the job, love.”

 

Harry's eyes narrowed and Louis didn't miss the change of his expression nor the way his shoulders tightened beneath his shirt, but he tried to shrug the feeling of unease off that suddenly settled in his gut.

 

He clapped his hands together, rubbing his hands on his thighs and sighed, his gaze drifting from Harry to the door of his bedroom and back again. “Anyway I should probably head out. Places to be -”

 

“Places to rob.”

 

“Oi!”

 

Harry just grinned, and with a wink, that was fairly unfair if you asked Louis, he stood up, proffering his hand for Louis to take to help him up as well. Louis didn't hesitate once. This time their hands didn't let go so quickly.

 

“Should I worry about more people trying to come and rob me then?” He asked and Louis was glad that whatever change in Harry's mood he had detected had seemed to have vanished just as quickly as it had appeared.

 

“Nah, said it yourself, didn't you? This isn't exactly Buckingham Palace.” And with a wink of his own, Louis let go of Harry's hand and skipped towards the door. Before the door clunked shut he could hear an indignant squeak of Harry, and a high pitched: “You said that!”.

 

But if there was one thing Louis never failed at, even if his tally for failed robberies now had one mark on it, was a good exit.

 

 

With one hand in a sticky yellow noose of the circle line, Louis let himself sway to and fro as the metro rattled along the tracks. He couldn't get Harry out of his head. And it wasn't the fact that Harry was still sitting on a fortune, unbeknownst to him. It was something else and Louis hated how easily he was distracted from a job. He had a plan. He would get his hands on that painting, and normally, normally he wouldn't even feel bad about it, but now? With the prospect of having to lie straight into Harry's face? Into those kind eyes and having to betray the kind and oblivious young man who had, without any real reason to trust him, saved his life?

 

He sighed and leaned forwards, hanging his entire weight from the noose above him, before letting himself fall back dramatically. Maybe for once, he just needed to heed Nick's advice and, Louis rolled his eyes internally, be a _real_ thief for once. A little bit more calculating, a little less passionate, a little less keen on having that thrill of the moment, the kick that came with coming up with something on the spot. As was quite obvious from today, that just got him into trouble. That trouble doubling when cute boys with dimples and big hands came into play.

 

Groaning Louis buried his face in the crook of his elbow, and used his other hand to fish out his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans. Even if he wasn't looking forward to having to see Nick's gloating face, he sure as hell could use a distraction.

 

 

“So just get him out of your system, Tomlinson.” Nick was sprawled out on one his hideous leather love seats, a bottle of wine (his second one this evening) clutched in one hand, the other one daintily moving in front of Louis' face, who, some time ago, he couldn't remember how long it's been, everything was a bit woozy, had fallen off the couch and was now lying at Nick's feet, his own tumbler of alcohol shining golden in all the artificial, aggressively aesthetical lights Nick had hanging around in his living room. He was a cliché, if you ever saw one.

 

“I don't know what you are talking about,” he grumbled and downed the remnants of his drink in one go, savouring the taste of Bourbon on his tongue.

 

“What I'm saying is – oi stop that, get your own bottle – I'm saying-” with a smelly feet in his face, Louis was pushed back down to the ground, “you should fuck him and then, when he's still woozy from _la petit morte_ ,” his voice got all nasally and snobbish when he talked in French and Louis detested it, “you can just clear his flat.”

 

“No one is ever that fucked out, that they wouldn't notice someone robbing them. And anyway, I'm not doing that.” Having given up the search for another drop of alcohol, Louis traced shapes into the furry rug beneath him.

 

“Don't hold me to this but I know from personal experience,” Louis didn't look up, but he could almost feel Nick's obnoxious eyebrow wiggle, “that you are actually very capable of rendering someone stupid.”

 

At that Louis did look up. “Aw Nick! I didn't know you liked me so much!”

 

“Shut it, Tomlinson. I'm trying to be a good friend here!”

 

Louis snorted and rolled his eyes when Nick loudly protested, spurting words like betrayal, disrespect and arrogance. “You wouldn't have any friends if it weren't for me, Tomlinson. Don't forget that.”

 

The sudden pain that bloomed in Louis' chest was something he didn't want to think about. Didn't want Nick to see. It would have to be cut down before the pain could grow thorns, before it would become visible.

 

Because Nick was right. He kind of was his only friend. Louis would define him more like an enemy turned a nuisance turned banality, but he didn't want to be picky on that topic. The truth was that even though Louis' tactics were frowned upon, mocked because his missions never turned violent or destructive or even deadly, laughed at because he was known as the thief with the big heart, in the end he didn't have many people to share his so openly ridiculed kind side. No one seemed to want to stick around.

 

So maybe people confused his unwillingness to plan a bigger heist with a big heart, and maybe other people, outside of this in the end rather capitalistic and cold hearted business (Robin Hood would forever stay a myth), maybe they actually saw the real him, and that's why they always left.

 

Or maybe Louis was just not made for genuine friendship. The one friend who had mattered had left him in the end after all.

 

He sat up abruptly.

 

“Give me the damn bottle, Nick, and shut up.”

 

“Did I hit a nerve, little one?”

 

Louis rolled his eyes, too exhausted suddenly, too drunk in general to react verbally and pulled the wine bottle out of Nick's slack grip. Tilting his head back, he put the bottle to his lips and downed the rest of the bottle in five huge gulps. The angle of his neck was so strained that the movement of his Adam’s apple was verging on painful whenever he swallowed, but he savoured the feeling. He wanted to really feel the poison he was swallowing down.

 

The bottle, green glass so much brighter now without its vine coloured blood absorbing all the light, clattered to the ground. Louis didn't care what happened to it. With much more effort than it should have taken him, he heaved himself back onto the couch, wiggling so far up towards Nick, that his neck slipped from the armrest, letting his head dangle down.

 

“Your nostrils look silly from here,” he said and poked Nick wherever he could reach him, his ribs, his thigh, and one lucky strike: his nose.

 

“ _You_ look silly.” The other man said with faux exasperation and stopped Louis' hand from poking him further, holding it still in his lap.

 

“Let go of my hand.” Despite his complaints Louis didn't try to tug his hand free. It felt kind of nice actually. Nick had very big hands. Very soft hands. Probably because he never lifted a finger. Probably couldn't even pick a lock any more. Lazy entitled baboon. With stupid hair and stupidly large nostrils. He should tell him that. About the nostrils, maybe a doctor could offer him some kind of nostril surgery. Just sew them shut and -

 

“I wouldn't be able to breathe then you idiot.” The pressure on Louis' hand increased for a moment. It felt warm.

 

“The doctors would figure something out, Nicky. They would. They are doctors. They are just trying to help you, you know? With your nostril disease. I'm just trying to-” He hiccuped and whined when the acid punched against his throat, against his sternum.

 

“I always forget how fast you switch from slightly tipsy to full on drunk. You freaking lightweight.”

Nick's voice suddenly sounded very far away, but Louis didn't care. He hummed in agreement and tucked at his captured hand.

 

“C'mon here. Niiicky, come cuddle.”

 

Everything after that went calmingly black.

 

 

 

In another part of town, Harry was still awake. The day had long turned its back to the sun, the moon itself growing tired, yawning behind the clouds, its silver shine growing greyer and duller with every minute passing by, but Harry couldn't sleep. He was sitting on his bedroom window sill. _The_ window sill, looking out into the night. It was a clichéd and dramatic sight to behold, he was sure. His unkempt hair, the loose robe he had thrown over himself when he had stumbled out of bed, after he had finally decided that sleep just wouldn't come – everything about him right now was dramatic. Melodramatic most of all. What was he even doing?

 

He groaned and let his forehead thud against the window frame. How had this become his life. Sitting at an open window starring down the night, channelling every Victorian heroine he had ever read about, letting his thoughts circle around a handsome thief who hadn't exactly stolen anything, but had, as it became obvious now, taken off with Harry's wits.

 

If asked, he wouldn't even be able to pinpoint what had gotten his thoughts reeling in the first place. Maybe it was just the ridiculousness of the situation in its entirety. Perhaps it was the certainty that he couldn't tell his friends without them declaring him insane, maybe it was a certain kind of fear connected with that secrecy, that made him question the reality of it all. A small voice in the back of his mind kept insisting that it was a dream. That should he decide to go to sleep everything would become blurry, airbrushed, flimsy and that he would write it off as a midnight illusion of his sleepy brain. A fairytale gone modern, gone wrong.

 

Whatever it was, Harry couldn't put a name on it, and if he was already enumerating everything, why not make that the last possible reason as well. He liked labels. He liked knowing that things had a reason, an effect, and an end. A little three dimensional box where he could put it in, analyse it, and remember it, without having to discern it from smoky dreams.

 

Louis was – none of these things.

 

There was no reason: this neighbourhood was as boring as it was picturesque. Surely there were other parts of town where a robbery would actually make sense? Where you could rob something with actual worth attached to it? The only thing fitting that description that Harry could think off was Aunt Ella's antiquity shop a few blocks down. He liked going in there from time to time because more often than not people left things behind that were far more valuable than either Ella or the customer knew, and so there were real treasures hidden behind broken watches and wooden cases that had been so badly treated in their youth that the wind had turned wooden drawers into stone, immovable and mostly useless.

 

There was no effect: Harry was still in full possession of all of his things, nothing in his flat had been disturbed. Louis could have been something else entirely. A dust particle perhaps. Just as untraceable.

 

And of course there was no end. Unless Harry sulking in his room, cold London wind turning his white skin pink, then blue, a kaleidoscope of ice, counted as a sufficient enough end to whatever this was.

 

He groaned and closed his eyes. His temples were pulsing, a headache imminent and inevitable. He was still fever free but his nose was acting up again, the cold air doing nothing to appease it. Sniffling loudly and sullenly Harry stood up and closed the window. There was no need to worsen his cold over – whatever this was. Over a boy. Over a criminal even.

 

When he struggled under his blanket again the bed had already given off all its heat and the icy sheets didn't offer him any comfort at all. Fighting his body to stay put, to let his body heat slowly do the work of turning his icy bed into a cocoon of heat again, Harry slowly toppled into a restless sleep.

 

He awoke with a crick in his neck and snot clinging to his upper lip.

 

With his mind still scrambled from sleep and his throat scratchy from disuse and grim slime, he heaved himself out of bed and trotted into his adjoining bathroom.

 

Louis seemed like a far away dream. The whole occurrence had been pushed so far back into Harry's unconsciousness that he didn't even spare him a concrete thought at first.

 

Didn't really think about him when he stood under the warm spray of water for twenty minutes, letting the hot water rush over his aching neck and shoulder, hoping to appease his iron muscles.

Didn't think about him when he got dressed, when he made himself breakfast, when he checked his mails to see that his boss had granted him another sick day, didn't think of him when he checked his medicine cupboard and rummaged through his first aid pharmacy only to realize that he was out of aspirin, and didn't spare him a single thought when he wrapped himself into two thick jackets and a beanie to run to the shop to get himself something for his stiff neck and the coherent headache. Maybe he should stock up on tissues as well.

 

The molasses of people in early morning London was as dreary as always as Harry stumbled his way to the shop. His thoughts were as scattered as the plastic drafting through the alleys, images of past dreams still trying to distract him, trying to stick to the sole of his shoe, trying to lure him back to bed. Their intangible promises calling to him like a siren did the sailor.

 

Instead of wax Harry tried to push his wayward thoughts into nothingness with his headphones, Miley Cyrus crooning into his ears.

 

The LED lights of the supermarket seemed alien, too shrill against the warm and slow colours of a summer's morning outside, making the inside of the building look a sickly green. The airtight AC had filtered and re-filtered the air so often by now, that stepping into the shop was like stepping into a bubble, like slowly sliding into a cold pool of seaweed infested water. Harry revelled in it. His bruised airways greedily sucked up the artificial and fake air.

 

The outside noise blocked by his play list of his top 25 wake up call songs, Harry meandered thought the eerily empty aisles, looking into every department in lack of anything better to fo, well aware of the fact, that the shop's very own medicine chest was next to the cash register.

 

Of course it happened when he took his eyes off the rows upon rows of shelved food, and looked down on his phone, swiping left again and again on the device to find the track he actually wanted to listen to. Not one seemed to meet his requirements that day.

 

The trolley he bumped into rolled into a shelf, rattling its contents, the world suddenly filled with the noises of a creaking shelf, a string of curses in Harry's deep voice and Robbie Williams Trippin around Harry's head. In his scramble to apologize to the trolley's owner whilst simultaneously stretching out his arms to – to what? Magically keep every single item on the shelf from tumbling down by sheer power of will? - Harry ripped his earphones out of his ears, spiking his level of creativity when it came to his choice of curse words. Only then, with his ears suddenly completely open to the world around him again, did he hear giggles accompanying his litany of pain and embarrassment.

 

And now suddenly the remnants of his dreams laughed at him, showing him that he hadn't dreamed at all, laughed at his hubris for believing he could come up with something like that on his own, no matter how foggy his recollection had been, how hard fought his denial.

 

Now, he thought of him.

 

“Louis,” Harry breathed, his hands, like time, suspended in their movement to catch his earphones, which were now dangling dangerously close to the ground.

 

“You'd be a terrible pickpocket,” the smaller man laughed, his eyes shining brightly, made breathtaking by the blushes of ink underneath them. He looked tired. And soft. Mostly just amused and Harry hoped that the ground could just open up now and swallow him whole, but Louis looked so soft. Definitely soft. Soft soft soft. Harry's brain had decided to go all shut down, to save him from further embarrassment probably. To reboot.

 

“How would you be the judge of that, you're a terrible thief.”

 

Louis' tired eyes widened comically and Harry slapped a hand across his mouth in embarrassment, twisting the cord of his earphones sharply. “I shouldn't have said that.”

 

“Maybe not so loud next time, love. But you're right of course.” There was a mischievous twinkle in the blues of Louis' eyes that Harry couldn't quite pinpoint.

 

“Funny how small the world is though right?” Louis said softly, just like the rest of him, and pulled his trolley back towards him, straightening the beanie on his head in the same move.

 

“I guess you could say that,” Harry said and grinned uncertainly. He didn't want to say what he was thinking, because he didn't really take Louis for that kind of person, no matter how bizarre and highly illegal their first meeting had been. Harry was sure that Louis wasn't tracking him. Especially since Harry was sure that Louis couldn't have wanted to rob _him_ in the first place.

 

But of course Louis noticed. “I'm not stalking you, if that's what you think.”

 

“I – what? No of course I didn't think that!”

 

Louis raised his eyebrow and leaned onto the handle bars of his shopping car. “If you say so. Well, now you know I'm not so, there's that. I actually got wasted last night and got stranded here. You live at a terminal stop and I fell asleep on the train and well,” he shrugs and sheepishly looks down, “I should have let my friend pay for the taxi but he's an ass so he would have held that over my head for ages and I didn't even realize at first that I was this close to your apartment, I swear.”

 

“You look good though!”

 

Louis' eyes snapped upwards, confusion worrying his forehead. “Thanks I guess?”

 

“No, I mean,” For all that Harry cared the ground could swallow him up right now away. “What I mean is that you look uhm fit for someone who apparently spent his night drunk on public transport? What I'm saying is, that like -”

 

“Harry?” Louis' soft voice interrupted him, his tone laced with a gentleness that immediately eased Harry's heartbeat. “You're cute when you're nervous.” He cocked his head in contemplation. “If I didn't still feel bad for traumatizing you with my attempt at breaking and entering, I'd ask you out on a date right now, Curly.”

 

“You what?” Harry spluttered and he honestly couldn't say what he was more traumatized by. Cute boys climbing his walls like freaking Eugene in Tangled or cute boys asking him out while his nose was red and snotty and when his beanie was pulled down to his eyebrows.

 

 

 

In Louis' humble and hangover opinion, Harry was a work of art. Modern art that tripped and wobbled and blushed in splatters of red.

 

“I'd wine and dine you, is what I'm saying. Go all out. For the sake of romance, would you condone me breaking into some fancy place?”

 

He probably shouldn't lay it on so thick, but Louis had to get a grip on himself somehow and ridiculing his own desires was a sure way of doing so. He wanted to wine and dine Harry Styles. He wanted to sit down with this conundrum of a boy and listen to him talk for hours, talk to him for hours. Tell him everything. Explain to him everything. But he couldn't. And he shouldn't have blurted it out like that. So maybe waving around the thief card would help ward one law abiding Harry Styles off.

 

Oh boy how wrong he was.

 

“I've always wanted to spend a night in the Natural History Museum.” The boy in front of him said, his back still a little bit hunched where he had leaned down to get a grip on his headphones, his feet pigeon toed where they anchored him to the floor.

 

“You want me to break into the Natural History Museum for a date?”

 

“You offered didn't you? And I've always wanted to spend the night there since I was a little kid!” Harry's eyes lit up like stars, the whole scene probably flashing behind his eyes.

 

“Well I can certainly try to do so. Let's just hope that the dinosaurs don't come alive for us.”

 

Harry's cackle was loud and boisterous. He threw his head back and scrunched his nose up and Louis couldn't help but be endeared by his two front teeth, suddenly and cutely on display when he calmed down again and giggled at Louis with two big dimples in his cheeks.

 

“That would be one hell of a date then.” He said finally and Louis wanted to melt into a puddle of romance novel worthy feelings right then and there.

 

“Literally,” he said dryly and Harry almost hiccuped with giggles.

 

“I'm sure we'd survive though. With your skills.” Harry's cheeky smile was hard to take, especially since Louis had made a pact with himself to stay away from Harry. He would get his painting and then he would be out of Harry's life. That would be for the best. He was sure of it. With ice in his stomach where butterflies should be Louis watched as Harry's smile diminished by the lack of a response from Louis. He tracked Harry's hands as the boy finally gathered his earphones up and pushed them into his coat pocket, his movements halting when his eyes caught onto the inside of Louis' trolley.

 

And suddenly he blushed. Confused, Louis checked the inside of his shopping cart and frowned. There was nothing blush worthy in there was it? Duct tape for a small “gig” he had planned with a new kid in their band of merry little thieves, a task that Nick had forced on him, saying that the Irish lad was too eager to be left unattended. _True talent, love. It needs tending to._ Next to that were three water bottles, because even though Louis had had his plumbing checked and renewed, he still didn't trust the London tap water. He had thrown in a few energy bars as well, together with a muscle relaxant and oooh… the condoms.

 

“It's always the glow in the dark ones that get you into uncomfortable situations, isn't it?” Louis joked and looked up into Harry's wide-eyed face.

 

“For what it's worth I can't recommend duct tape. It isn't the nicest and if you use it wrong it can leave marks.” Harry stared intently at Louis, his words as confusing as they were intense.

 

“But at least it holds steady, you know?” And it was the truth. Louis lived for duct tape. Of course Harry had a point and lots of people in Louis' field actually shook their heads at Louis' choice of utensil, but they just didn't know what they were missing.

 

Harry gulped audibly and blinked repeatedly, making Louis smile widely.

 

“I mean if you,” he coughed pointedly, “if you have experience with it then I guess it's okay. I just can't imagine that trying to get rid of the residue glue is a nice way to leave a scene.”

 

“Who said anything about getting rid of the glue? I happen to like leaving something of me behind to be remembered by.” Something Louis was sure he would come to regret sooner or later, because statistically speaking (and who was he kidding, also from experience) he was sure that he would get himself caught because he couldn't hold himself back and had to finish a job with a personal touch. Predictability was one of the four main pillars of the things that a thief learned not to support. The other three pillars consisting mainly of capitalism, fake fur and anything that wasn't real Italian leather gloves. Louis was pretty sure, that as so many ridiculous guidelines whispered among the ranks, Nick had actually made them all up.

 

But the people believed it, and the first pillar at least held some truth. As soon as you left enough traces behind for the cops to discern a pattern? You were doomed.

 

Harry blushed a furious red. His hands sprang into action like rattlesnakes, and where they had been hanging relaxed at his sides he was now moving them about with a certain kind of restlessness that promised something more to come. Like the calm before the storm, this was that only in reverse.

 

“Could I give you my number?”

 

And there was the thunder.

 

Louis cocked his head and smiled softly (-sadly). “I thought we went over this, I need to protect myself from evil do gooders like you who might want to see me behind bars.”

 

“I think I have proven myself to not be someone who rats people out, have I not?” Harry's eyes widened in question, no matter how rhetorical it might have been. It was charming. The genuine curiosity behind an unacknowledged question.

 

“Tell you what, Curly. One time is up to chance, two times is a coincidences, and three times a charm. Next time you see me, I'll know that I can't avoid you any more. Then it might as well be meant to.”

 

Louis wasn't sure who he was appeasing at this moment, but it didn't matter. It worked.

 

Harry's smile dimmed a little bit, before something akin to a comet crashed into his mood, leaving two craters of a dimple in his cheeks.

 

“I like the idea of fate.”

 

“Then it's settled then.” Louis grabbed the bar of his trolley and made to turn around. If he wanted to leave he needed to leave now or he never would.

 

“See you around, Louis.” Fate had the smile of a cherub, her scissors hidden behind brown curls, green beanies and eyes.

 

Louis tried to hold on to what he knew was dangerous about playing with fate, any stories his mother might have read to him as a child, any school lecture he had ever had to sit through. He tried to remember every single reason why he should hope to never see Harry again.

 

Reasons that went from entrepreneurial suicide, to the fear of getting his heart broken. A wide range, if you asked him. A sign that he should leave this whole matter well alone.

 

“See you around, Harry.”

 

 

 

It was Wednesday.

 

Three weeks later. And Harry couldn't stop hitting his head against the door of his refrigerator. He had been so dumb, so unbelievably, utterly stupid.

 

Oh yes, what a great idea. To listen to Louis and to let him go without insisting on exchanging number. Letting him waltz out of his life under the premise of fate. Being a romantic was a social rabbit hole. It all sounded fantastic, was praised as the life style to go in every novel, in every show, in every deodorant or chewing gum commercial. But had anyone ever considered that being a romantic also destroyed all semblance of a brain? Because Harry could tell from experience that it sucked the common sense right out of you.

 

“Hazza, as fascinating as this is to watch, would you consider stopping? You're breaking your fridge.”

 

“Yes, thank you Gemma for your concern about my well being. I'm fine.” He turned around and sacked against the machine. “It's so good to have you back, sister.”

 

Gemma Styles-soon-to-be-Irwin sat at his kitchen counter, a magazine about wedding dresses spread out before her as she raised an eyebrow at her brother. With every flick to the next page of the shiny magazine, the pages seemed to squeak.

 

“I see how it is. Now that you are happily engaged and staring into the beginnings of your happy ending, you're leaving me behind in the dust. I should have known. Must I remind you that it's only thanks to my brilliance that you even have that ring on your finger?”

 

“Harry for the hundredth time, cancelling on a trip with me and my boyfriend,” she blushed and Harry knew that she was thinking about future descriptors for Ashton. The fiancé, the husband. The love of her life. “Is not the same as being some kind of matchmaking mastermind!”

 

“I feel like you got meaner ever since he put that ring on you. Are you sure that the ring is not cursed?” He pushed himself off the fridge and walked towards Gemma, plopping himself down next to her and pulling her left hand into his lap. The silver band on her ring finger shimmered beautifully in his kitchen lights.

 

“You're an idiot.” Gemma laughed and turned her hand out of his grip to slide their fingers together.

 

“But you love me anyway”, he preened and kissed her on the cheek, his exaggerated kissing noises making her giggle and push him away. Harry had really missed her. When he had first told her about Louis (as soon as she had put her seatbelt in the airport parking lot) she had taken one long look at him, and when she had seen what was raging on behind his eyes, she hadn't laughed but she had taken his hand and told him, that maybe fate would be on his side for once. (Needless to say that Ashton had lost it in the back seat.)

 

She had always been the one that would play along with whatever nonsense Harry would come up with, she had never ridiculed him for his wild imagination, nor his childish believes that sometimes miracles came true. Harry was sure that she had stopped truly believing in these things a long time ago, but she still offered a helpful hand, whenever he needed one.

 

But after another week of nothing from Louis, Harry could feel that even she started to pity him a little bit. He felt it in the way that she took him out to lunch almost every day now, felt it in the way that she roped him into her wedding plans, felt in the way that her eyes followed his slouched figure around the room.

 

He wasn't mad at her. Couldn't really blame her for giving up on Louis, when she had never even met him, when she didn't know what kind of _pull_ that boy had on Harry's heart.

 

“So what are we looking at here,” he said and leaned his head on her shoulder to look into the magazine spread in front of them.

 

Their conversation flowed naturally as they flipped through various magazines. At one point Gemma mentioned how their mum had made it her new mission to make an honest man out of her son now that her daughter was all ready to start a new life, and she laughed at Harry's panicked expression.

 

“You know what happened the last time she tried to interfere right? Remember Smelly Mike?”

 

Gemma snorted out a laugh. “Come on now, Harry, he wasn't that bad. He was head over heels for you!”

 

They had migrated to Harry's bedroom at one point, Gemma sprawled out on her back on his violet duvet, a magazine lying face down on her stomach where it rose and fell with her every breath. Harry, for no obvious reasons of course, had chosen a spot on the window sill.

 

“He smelled like mould and rat droppings!” Harry exclaimed and desperately waved his arms around. His mum always got way too much into matchmaking. Her only problem? She didn't see any flaws in people that liked her children. Everything else about them didn't seem to matter.

“Oh but remember when he brought his rat over to our house, because he wanted to impress you with the tricks he had taught her?” Gemma was gasping for breath on his bed, the magazine crinkling between her hands as she tried to calm herself.

 

“That rat pooped on me!”

 

His sister clearly hated him.

 

“What did you tell mum?” He hid behind his hands, leaning forwards until his elbows rested on his knees.

 

“I told her that you were enjoying your life as a bachelor and that she shouldn't interfere and she agreed that it was none of her business.”

 

The following silence was heavy and way too suspicious, so Harry dropped his hands defeated and looked at his sister again. Her face was red and her eyes seemed to almost pop out of her skull as she tried to keep her laughter at bay. Harry's defeated gaze seemed to be her breaking point though. Squealing and grunting with laughter she rolled from side to side and hiccuped his name from time to time.

 

“Harry, your face!”

 

“I hate you,” he grumbled and hid his face from view again. “What did you tell her really then?”

 

“Oh no, I was serious that's exactly what I told her, her answer was just a little different.” She hiccuped and dramatically wiped away her laughter tears. “She's planning on finding you a date for my wedding, isn't that wonderful Hazzy? We have the best mum, always looking out for us.”

 

She managed maybe thirty seconds, before she burst out laughing again.

 

It was official. “I hate you,” Harry mumbled and stood up to let himself drop onto the bed beside her.

 

It took both of them a while until they had calmed down again. Two tickle fights, one pillow attack that ended with Gemma on top of Harry, smothering him, and two bruises forming on each their shins from kicking each other later, they lay breathlessly next to one another.

 

“Seriously though, Harry. You're a handsome young lad. Where's your knight in shining armour?”

 

Harry turned his head towards her, the soft sound of his duvet brushing against his hair rustling in his ears. He didn't answer until Gemma had her eyes locked onto his.

 

“I told you.”

 

Gemma rolled her eyes. Softly, in a way that suggested that she was more worried about him than she was annoyed with him. “Harry you can't keep running after this phantom of a man.”

 

_I know,_ Harry wanted to whisper, but it was no use lying to himself, so he just cuddled up into his sister and closed his eyes. Behind his eyes, Louis was already there, waiting for him in shadowy uncertainty, acting out every one of Harry's dreams. Waking up in this very room with Harry, only clad in boxers, the sun filtering through the curtains making his cinnamon skin glow golden, making his hair shine. Louis in his kitchen, drinking coffee? Harry hadn't decided yet if the Louis in his head was a coffee or a tea person. But he thought that coffee fit more into the whole thief persona. Black coffee to make it through the night of petty crime. Harry had lost his mind, clearly.

 

The hand playing in Harry's hair was as distracting as it was grounding, which was why it took him a while to realize that Gemma had asked him a question. Her hand stopped moving.

 

“Aren't there any nice and available guys at work?”

 

Harry sighed. Because yeah, he _wished_. The only handsome and gay _and_ available man at work was Nick and he had been off the list of suitors for Harry the moment they had met and he had put his hands on Harry's shoulders, ordering him to turn on the spot and had then declared him his best friend, because his buttocks looked like the peach he had dreamed off the night before.

 

“No, Gems, you know there aren't,” Harry finally conceded and butted his head against her hand, silently ordering her to continue her massage.

 

“Maybe Nick can hook you up with someone?” She continued carding through his locks.

 

“I'm not letting Nick of all people set me up. He gets way too much into it. I'd rather face whatever mum is planning on bringing to the wedding.”

 

“You are always so dramatic. I bet whatever she's bringing they can't be worse than Raccoon Rick.”

 

“He went through our rubbish bin, Gemma!”

 

Her pearly laughter bounced off his bedroom walls.

 

 

 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

 

“Niall, who's your mentor?” Louis said, not looking at Niall as the boy crouched down to look at the security patch to the Mary Axe's back entrance number 5, checking the perimeter instead.

 

“You are not my mentor. You're just the only one who wasn't in the middle of planning a huge hit.” The blonde said and quietly slid his rucksack off his shoulder. Louis had to bite his tongue not to laugh. Stealth wouldn't help Niall now either. It was 2pm on a Monday in late June. The sun was beating down on them, their shadows gliding across the glass panelled building like leeches, the securities cameras pointing 25 degrees to the left of them, slowly minimizing that angle by the minute and the decoder Louis had given Niall was broken and well. Louis might have left out a few key points in his pep talk this morning. This wasn't an exercise in hacking good security systems. It was a lesson in running away. But they would get to that.

 

“Excuse me, but did you just imply that you only chose my services because I'm the only one who was available? Do you have any idea how insulting that is?”

 

Louis swivelled around to look at Niall, the back of his head shining like a beacon in the sun, as he started to attach the decoder to the fingerprint screener.

 

“For both sides Niall. That was insulting for both sides. You insulted yourself. Implying that I am a lazy git is one thing, saying that you think so and still chose my services just shows how little you actually care about a decent training.”

 

Niall leaned back, and dropped to his hunches to rummage through this bag. “You are insufferable. Honestly, I don't know why I put up with you.”

 

“Because you want all the riches in the world and I am showing you how to achieve that,” Louis answered, his voice sounding flat as he continued studying the boy in front of him, who turned around to look at Louis quizzically.

 

“Is that why you are doing it? To “get all the riches in the world”?” His air drawn quotation marks stood in the air like fast moving sparks, their momentum in the delay afterwards.

 

“No I did it for the glory. Now get to work.”

 

Louis lowered his gaze, escaping Niall's scrutinizing look by hiding behind his fringe and turning away. He looked up. The camera would be on them in one minute. The alarm would sound in thirty seconds.

 

“I'm just saying man, it's been five weeks and I still don't know anything about you. We should bond more. We could be as thick as thieves,” he wiggled his eyebrows and giggled at his own joke. Louis ignored him. And started counting down in his head. 10. Niall was still hiccuping between laughs, his attention once more focused on the technology unfolding before him. 8. His hands were steady as he tuned and tricked the sensor. 5. Louis started to roll his feet, to loosen his ankles, reading for the sprint he and Niall would have to run soon. 3. Niall's tongue started to poke out, his focus entirely on the controlling pad, completely ignoring all the dangers around him. Like the black eye of the camera slowly focusing on them, and the police car slowly turning the corner. Which – fuck. That hadn't been planned.

 

And then the alarm went off.

 

“Remember lesson 15?” Louis asked and caught Niall's panicked gaze. “Run!”

 

The sounds of their feet hitting the pavement echoed between the tall buildings of the city, the alarm fading into a background noise that was hard to block out, like an invisible fly flying circles around your head. The echo of the siren ebbed and flowed through the streets, the sirens of police cars adding to the cacophony of noise as Louis shoved Niall into an old hotel complex, pulling him towards a rusty service lift.

 

Niall's laboured breathing was loud in the small space they found themselves in. He looked at Louis with wild and wide eyes, his hands on his knees to catch his breath, his lungs rattling like a symphony of stones as he watched Louis handle the manual lift and brought their little carriage down.

 

“What the hell was that?” He wheezed and tried to straighten his posture, collapsing back into the wall behind him, his diaphragm too strained to let him stand up straight. He was like a puppet with his strings cut. Louis should do that more often to him. This was unacceptable.

 

“A test.” Louis supplied and rammed a lever up with so much force that he could have sworn he saw sparks fly against the old metal. He stepped out of the lift and stretched himself languidly once. He loved this place. It didn't have much to show for and he rarely ever came here, but these underground tunnels once used to be his home away from home, had been the first real thing he had ever owned by himself, were his clichéd safe haven where he could be completely himself.

 

“A test?!” Niall screeched and scrambled out after him, chasing after his mentor with flailing limbs and screaming lungs. “You knew this was going to happen? We could have been caught! Oh my god are you actually insane?”

 

Rolling his eyes Louis slipped out of his jacket and dramatically plopped himself down on an old swivel chair. The room he had lead them into was circular and small, equipped with two small bureau desks, two swivel chairs, three laptops, a tea kettle, a lava lamp and a life sized hulk action figure. That had been a birthday present from a friend for his 18th birthday. And even though the friend had cut himself out of Louis' life, Hulk was staying. Louis needed constants in his life.

 

“Yes a test. Needed to test your cardio.”

 

“And you couldn't have bloody asked? Oh hey Niall, are you doing enough cardio? Oh no Louis actually I suffer from asthma and it would be really nice if we could avoid running at breaking speed though the streets of London.”

 

“You have asthma?” Louis asked, and he could feel the first bouts of guilt seeping into his blood. Boiling up like the sickly orange lava to his left.

 

“No I don't, you bloody cunt, but I could have had it! I could have died! You need to talk to people, Louis. What the hell _was_ that?” With a red face and shaking hands Niall dropped his bag and rolled the second chair towards himself, letting himself fall back on it like a sack of potatoes. Heavy and boneless. Apparently his metabolism devoured adrenalin faster than Louis' did. He remember how long after Harry his heart had beat like a wild horse, drumming a hectic rhythm in his chest, rousing every nerve ending, making his whole body stand on edge. The fall had been even worse because of it.

 

“I wanted you to see how easy it is to get caught.” Louis said and started playing with his hands, knotting his fingers together, encircling his own wrists with his hands, echoing the feeling of handcuffs he knew all too well.

 

“And lesson 15 wasn't enough for that?” Was the huffed reply, as Niall rubbed his hands over his face, ruffling his already dishevelled hair.

 

“Of course it wasn't. Any and all rhetorical lessons are a waste of time if you never had to use them in real life.”

 

“Oh god I bet you were every teacher's nightmare.” The blonde groaned and leaned back, his head hanging over the backrest of the chair, hiding his face from Louis' scrutinizing gaze. But he could still hear the small smile in the other man's voice.

 

“I'll have you know that the teachers loved me actually. I was an amazing student.”

 

What followed was a long and pregnant pause, the only sound in the room being Niall's heavy breathing, the occasional scraping of their chairs against the metallic ground, and the humming of the machinery around them.

 

“Would the decoder even have worked?” Niall asked suddenly and rearranged his body loudly on the small space of the chair, his knees now tucked neatly under his chin, with his arms wrapped around his shins to keep them in place.

 

The shake of his head was enough answer for Niall and he looked away, pressing his face into his shoulder.

 

And suddenly his shoulders started shaking and the whole chair began to rock, forcing him to put his feet back on the ground again, his posture loosening and his arms falling to his sides to reveal his face. A bright and blinding smile was dancing across his face, his eyes shining with happiness.

 

“Oh my god they were so wrong about you. You're not reckless or insane, you are some kind of mastermind that no one understand, you're fucking brilliant!” His laughter was loud and honking, his whole body strung tight with the force of it.

 

“Are you okay?” Louis asked and with the way Niall was curling in on himself with laughter Louis couldn't stop himself from giggling along.

 

“You're literally a genius. A menace, I'll give you that. An adrenalin junkie as well probably, but this was genius!” He slapped his knees and when he caught Louis' confused gaze he started cackling even louder, and began to spin back and forth on his chair. “You're a bloody genius!”

 

“Talking about adrenalin, I don't think you are handling it very well.” Louis quipped but since Niall's laughter was infectious it didn't come out as teasing as he had hoped. His voice just as giggly and breathless as Niall's was at the moment.

 

“I bet you also knew that cop, if it even was a cop, and just wanted to scare me! What a legend!”

 

And now it was his turn to cackle loudly. He swivelled his chair towards the desk, turning his back to his companion and cocked his head to the side.

 

“Actually, no I didn't. That wasn't part of the plan. But I did temper with the cameras so even though you should have thought about them, there won't actually be any footage of us on them.”

 

“Wait what?”

 

But Louis wasn't listening any more, because one of the laptops had just come to life, alerting him to a message, just as his phone started vibrating in his pocket. Only a handful of people knew his phone number, and even less people knew how to send him a message to his phone and his server.

 

Not wanting Niall to see anything, Louis chose his phone over the huge screen of the computer. Cradling the small device in his hands, he opened the new text alert. It was from unknown number, but Louis knew who it was from.

 

_I told you not to look for it. They saw you. Hide it._

 

 

 

Harry was a full grown adult. He had a good, if underpaid job giving tours at the planetarium, he had friends, a loving family, he had a stable outlook on life. And he was not still thinking about a chance meeting between a man and him more than a month ago. That would have been unreasonable. And Harry was anything but unreasonable.

 

Which was why when he turned on the news in the afternoon, his self made smoothie standing in front of him, and his work out clothes on a neatly folded pile next to him, already prepared for the next day, he didn't stand in front of his TV for half an hour just staring at it, his chest still dripping wet from the shower and his towel slowly sliding down his hips.

And he most certainly didn't entertain the idea that he could call Liam to cover his shift at the planetarium tonight. He did not.

 

Which was why he was not surprised in the slightest when he found himself in front of the Mary Axe an hour later, staring at the red and white barrier tape that surrounded the shiny building. A handful of police officers were still running around, still taking questions in the background while others were already starting to clean up the scene.

 

Harry wasn't sure what made him believe that Louis was in any way involved in this. Maybe it was just ghosts running around in his head, maybe he had lost it, but something was stirring in his belly, telling him that he was very close to seeing the whole picture. The nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that told him that something would happen soon made him brave enough to approach the closest police officer, tapping her on the shoulder, her uniform rustling under the soft touch.

 

“Excuse me, I know you've probably been asked this a thousand times today, but do you know what happened here?”

 

She turned around slowly, her eyebrow already raised incredulously, her fingernails clicking on the notepad she was holding.

 

“And your relation to this case is what exactly?”

 

“Oh, uhm, none. I just – I heard it on the news and I was just, you know, wondering -”

  
She sighed deeply and let her shoulders drop, the creases in her forehead vanishing just as quickly as rain clouds in April did. She was beautiful like this: she had stuffed her notepad into her breast pocket, and used her now free hands to loosen her tight hair bun. Auburn strands of hair began curling along the nape of her neck, and for the first time in their short interaction Harry realized that there was a person behind this tough uniform.

 

“It was probably just some kids trying to prove themselves or something,” she said with a small smile, dropping her hands back down to her sides and throwing her head back, laughing suddenly. “When I got the call I was just as mind blown as you probably are now. I mean who tries to break into _that_?” She pointed at the bulbous building behind her. “But we have no camera footage, the witness we have can't identify the two people he thinks he saw messing with the code pad and just… It was probably a stupid teenage dare. I suppose should be glad that I don't have to do so much paperwork now.” She smiled kindly and Harry smiled back. The voice in the back of his head turning into an incessant white noise that was hard to block out. “Rest assured though, I don't think anyone is going to break into your home in the near future. At least not the guys involved in this.”

 

The laugh Harry barked out was more than unattractive but the police woman just smiled wider and patted him on the arm, turning to walk away towards her car. “Enjoy the rest of your day, young man. And don't get yourself into trouble.”

 

Don't get himself into any trouble, as if that was possible. He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when he had decided to agree with this subconsciousness, when he had stopped calling it a hunch and started organizing his thoughts to agree with what he was now sure was a fact: but for him it was indisputable. This was Louis.

 

And if this was Louis, then trouble had already found him. He had practically sniffed trouble out like a bloodhound, looking for that next high. An addict and a thief. What a story that would be.

 

Shaking his head at himself, Harry turned around, his head hanging low as he pushed his way through the accumulated mass of spectators, who had gathered around him and the barrier tape, desperate for another look at something interesting, story worthy, real.

 

“Harry!”

 

His head snapped up. Who was that? Rising onto his tippy-toes to see over the melange of heads, he looked around, his gaze getting stuck on a man waving his arms around to make himself noticeable, a task made absurd by the fact, that he should have been easy enough to spot already with his height, his shiny quiff, and his glittery jacket.

 

“Nick, what are you doing here?” The two men fell into each other's arms, hugging the other one tightly before letting go and turning their attention back to the ghostly crime scene before them. Now that most of the police had left, and most of the tape had been removed, it reminded Harry more of a graveyard than a crime scene, or one of the most important financial places in London.

 

“I could ask you the same thing.” His friend laughed and Harry couldn't help himself: he blushed.

 

“It's just weird isn't it? That someone would try to break into _that_ in broad day light?”

 

He could feel Nick's inquisitive gaze on his face, but he kept looking straight forward, refusing to give Nick the satisfaction of seeing him flustered.

 

“Am I sensing detective skills, young Harold? Are you going to ditch me at the planetarium and make me entertain old people who mistake astrology for astronomy all by myself to pursue a career in law and order?”

 

“No, of course not! I was just curious. Had nothing better to do, you know?” Harry bit his lip, looking at Nick from the corner of his eyes only to find the man smiling sweetly back at him.

 

“I know the feeling, mate.”

  
“Of course you do. You never actually work.”

  
“Now that's not true, you know how serious I take my job.” He clapped Harry on the shoulder and laughed loudly. Oh how Harry wished he could make Gemma happy and just go for Nick.

 

“If your dad didn't almost own the whole station, you would have been fired months ago. No offence.”

 

“Consider me highly offended then. If I wanted to I would win employee of the month every month.”

 

Harry laughed, nudging his friend with his elbow. “Sure you would be.”

 

Exchanging breathless and carefree laughter between the two of them they enjoyed a few minutes of silence in the hustle they were stranded in.

 

Until Nick couldn't keep still any more, his mouth running wild with his thoughts.

 

“I still don't think you're telling the whole truth though, Harold. What are you doing here of all places? Didn't you have a shift today?”

 

Maybe Harry should start making friends who didn't analyse stars for a living, because maybe a less analytical mind would have dropped the whole matter completely. Scuffling the tip of his boot on the floor, his hands in his pocket and his shoulders tense, everything inside him screaming at him to run and hide, rather than to confess that he had found himself next to a crime scene on a Monday evening when he should have been standing in front of a group of sixteen year-olds waiting for a virtual tour through their galaxy.

 

“You're going to laugh if I tell you,” he confessed, his gaze still turned down as if the black spot of century old bubblegum under his boot was more interesting than anything else.

 

“I promise I won't laugh. What could you possible say that would make me laugh at you now?”

 

Giving up all pretence Harry rolled his shoulders back, and tipped his head back, his neck cracking at the sudden change of direction. “I think I might know whoever did this.”

 

Instead of laughing, instead of any kind of mockery, Nick turned scarily quiet of all the sudden. So quiet that Harry had to look at him again, his brows furrowing in concern when he saw Nick's contemplative face. That was not a reaction Harry had anticipated.

 

“Why would you think that?” He suddenly asked and Harry wasn't sure what he was supposed to make of his tone.

  
“Just a hunch. I might have… met someone who told me about, uhm,” he scrambled his brain for a reasonable excuse that would neither get Louis into trouble, nor make people think he himself was insane. “about thieves in London. Because it's their dissertation topic and we talked about that.”

 

Nick was quiet for a long time again and Harry could do nothing but wait. Because he knew the more he was going to say the more nonsense would come out. Wasn't there a saying that only liars needed words? He was sure he remember something along those lines, so if Nick could stay silent, could be alone with his own thoughts for a few minutes then so could he.

 

And then suddenly, Nick was back again, in all his loud and overcompensating glory. Too confused to react Harry could do nothing but nod, as Nick grabbed his hand and started pulling him out of the ever thinning crowd of bored and watchful Londoners and invited Harry over to his flat.

 

Harry only listened half-heartedly to the chatter Nick provided on their way to his home, still too lost in thoughts to tune in on every word. Nick lived on the posh side of the city, their metro ride getting more and more interesting as the tired employees of London left their cart one by one only to be replaced by fancy dressed men and women who seemed to only start their day now, close to dusk, when the city went to sleep and the game of show it off began.

 

Why were there never reports of burglaries in this part of the town, Harry wondered as he watched the people next to him, their Rolex clocks shining just as brightly as their credit cards surely did. Surely this was the part of town where a thief would actually manage to get some profit, contrary to what they would find in his flat.

 

He shook his head at himself. It was time to stop worrying about that. Louis was probably out of his life for good, nothing was actually taken form his possessions that night, and in all honesty, he knew too little about the boy from his window to assume that he'd know what he had wanted in the first place.

 

Looking over at Nick, Harry realized that he had stopped talking and was aggressively typing something on his phone. A string of high pitched beeps signalling a string of shirt messages.

 

“Is everything all right?” Harry asked, feeling bad enough already for ignoring his friend for so long.

 

“Yeah I'm just texting a friend of mine. Stubborn son of a bitch, I'm telling you. He… left something at mine and he's too lazy to pick it up again. You know how it is.” Nick laughed and cocked his head into Harry's direction, genuine amusement on his face. Until his phone beeped again. He groaned and cursed filthily, making the woman next to him gasp, quickly covering the ears of her son.

 

“This boy, I swear to God, one of these days I'm going to rip his head off.”

 

 

Louis was fuming with anger. Stupid arrogant arsehole of a friend Nick and his stupid superiority complex. Nothing had gone with Louis' mission with Niall. (Slight correction: nothing had gone terribly wrong with his mission.) And who did Nick even think he was, ordering Louis to his house like some kind of lackey. He wasn't one of Nick's dogbodies and he definitely didn't owe him anything. Especially not an explanation.

 

Not that there weren't ways to piss of Nick as well. If Louis was forced to come over then Nick would have to live with the fact that Louis would gain himself entrance to his stupid fancy flat in his own way. Which involved a skeleton key and a trashed bed room. Louis was practically an expert at this already. And Nick deserved it every time.

 

Whilst ripping the covers of the bed, hiding every thing that seemed important, and tipping over everything else in the huge master bed room, Louis ignored the increasingly annoying text messages Nick was sending him, basically begging him to come over, which, actually, was new. But Louis didn't think much of it, too pleased with his end result. The room looked like a bomb had crashed right into it, and the knowledge that Nick still thought that Louis was refusing to come over gave Louis that much more satisfaction.

 

It took Nick five more minutes to come home, and when the keys started turning in the lock, Louis was already in position. He was sitting on the kitchen counter, carefully sipping his tea, his feet dangling above the ground, the mess of a room clearly visible behind him, where he had left the door to Nick's room wide open. The corridor in front of him, glowing in an unhealthy blue because of the in built aquarium on the right side of it (Nick's taste truly was despicable), opened up to the front door giving him the perfect view of Nick's arrival.

 

In hindsight Louis should have foregone the tea.

 

Because stepping through the door was not only Nick, but also Harry. His Harry. Tenant 304.

 

Coughing and spluttering Louis tried to ease the pain on his windpipe where half of his tea had falsely disappeared into, the other half burning through his shirt.

 

Alarmed by the noise, Nick and Harry whipped their heads around, staring down at Louis, who surely was one pathetic sight to behold, tears now gathering in his eyes from the fight for oxygen his body was currently trying to win.

 

But Nick quickly came out of his stupor, a diabolical grin disfiguring his long face.

 

“What a surprise to see you here, Louis. I'd thought you were too busy being childish to come.”

 

Louis didn't bother replying, his eyes fixed onto the stupefied boy behind Nick. His eyes were blown wide, his mouth slightly agape. There was a small frown playing above one eyebrow as if he wasn't sure if this was a positive surprise or if some one was playing with him. His hair was frizzled and wild, almost as if he had run out with his hair still wet, and Louis wanted to bury his nose in those curls to see if he could still smell the shampoo.

 

Was this what fate had had in mind then? Bringing them together again only to have them stare at each other dumbly? Louis had always thought the worst of her, but this was just cruel. And yet his throat was still recovering, his heart still beating too rapidly and too loudly for him to hear anything but the rush of blood in his own ears, and right now speech seemed like a concept as far removed and inexplicable to him as space travel.

 

“Come in, come in, Harry,” Nick started ushering his guest inside, closing the door firmly behind the two of them. “This is the friend I mentioned, apparently he has decided to pick up what he lost after all.”

 

Harry slowly turned his head, following Nick's movements as his friend skipped around him, chatting happily along to whatever victory tune was surely ringing in his ears.

 

“Your friend?” He asked softly, and Louis clenched his eyes shut, because a voice alone shouldn't make him feel like this.

 

“Come on let me introduce you. Harry this is Louis.” He pushed Harry slowly down the corridor, the hand currently not resting on Harry's shoulder pointing enthusiastically at Louis. “And Louis this is Harry.”

 

“Hi,” Harry breathed softly when Nick had ushered him close enough that he was practically standing between Louis' legs, their height difference equalled out by Louis sitting on the polished counter.

 

Nick, who had strolled by the pair of them, was whistling, fixing himself a cup of tea as well, groaning when his gaze fell into his bedroom.

 

“Louis was this really necessary? The bedroom really? Destroying my living room last time wasn't enough, was it?”

 

Louis didn't turn around, too focused on the man in front of him, whose eyes were blown wide, his hair a soft mess, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, radiating a heat off his body that made him so real, that Louis' breath got caught in his throat.

 

“Oops,” he said hoarsely, simultaneously giving Nick some what of an answer but by never breaking eye contact with Harry, he felt as if he had answered something else entirely as well.

 

“I thought I'd never see you again,” Harry mumbled and stepped even closer to where Louis was sitting, impossibly close.

 

“Well, here I am.” He said and pointed at himself, grimacing when he saw Harry's eyes follow his hand movement, taking in the tea stain on Louis' jumper, his rumbled clothes, his miss matched socks.

 

“Here, you are.”

 

Nick came back tittering, fake surprise lacing his voice and making Louis' hair stand on edge. He lifted his cup of tea, his pointy finger obnoxiously pointed outwards, and raised his eyebrows at the pair of them. “Oh so you two know each other?”

 

And Louis hated his friend in that moment, hated him not for setting this up, but for being so noisy, because Harry's cheeks started to turn a beautiful shade of peach and he started opening and closing his mouth in panic, obviously looking for an explanation as to how he knew Louis, without mentioning certain illegal activities and when his brain couldn't think of anything, his subconsciousness must have noticed how close they were standing because he stumbled back, leaving Louis feeling oddly small.

 

But Louis couldn't tell Harry that it was okay to tell Nick the circumstances of their first meeting, couldn't tell him without also exposing Nick, could just sit there, all silly, tea drying up on his clothes, glaring daggers at Nick.

 

“Yeah we met in a supermarket, didn't we, Harry?”

 

Harry nodded viciously, his curls bouncing along like figurative bunnies on speed. “We did, yes we did. In a supermarket. He was buying duct tape.”

 

“You remembered what I was buying?” He slowly turned his eyes fully back onto Harry and raised an eyebrow.

 

“Did I? Seems like I did. I don't know why I did that.”

 

“Why didn't you exchange numbers? You two would get on like a house on fire!” The urge to punch Nick in the throat was growing stronger with every passing second.

 

“Louis was going to give me his number right now, actually,” Harry said and his still shy smile changed into a smirk when he realized that he had Louis cornered. Louis had promised him after all, hadn't he? Even if Nick had somehow played a bigger part in this than fate, he had promised. That the next time, he wouldn't run away any more.

 

With his cheek grin still in place, a new looseness to his shoulders, Harry pulled his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and tapped the screen a few times, before he caught Louis' gaze over the blueish light of the device.

 

“Full name and Surname, please.”

 

“Louis Tomlinson.”

 

“Louis _William_.” Nick threw in noisily and sipped at his tea with a wicked grin on his face, when Louis threw him an exasperated glance.

 

“Sounds fit for royalty.” Harry said with a wide smile and happily typed away.

 

“You're one to talk, Harry Edward Styles.”

 

The choked off sound Harry made was entirely unattractive, and Louis completely froze. Harry must have realized it at the same time as himself, the words already out in the open. Louis couldn't have known his full name, not even by looking at his door plate. And that coupled with the coincidence of him hanging off of Harry's window sill… He was so so screwed.

 

“What a crazy coincidence, our names fitting together like that.” Harry said after a long pause. His cheeks tinted a dark red, his eyes cast down, eyelashes kissing the purple brush strokes beneath his eyes.

 

“Crazy I know. Coincidences are funny like that aren't they. _Crazy_.” Louis jumped off the counter and turned away from Harry, not being able to watch the outcome of this disaster.

 

“What are the chances, am I right? Maybe I'm your Lady Vivienne, and you are going to climb my balcony to save me like the prince your name suggests you are.”

 

He slowly turned around again. “Do you really think you could fill the role of the charming and loving outsider, working outside of the law to keep your head above the water?”

 

“Definitely. I learned from the best.”

 

Oh, two could play at that game. “Just put my damn number in.” Louis said and laughed, brushing past Nick on his way to refill his tea. It was truly a shame that it had to go to waste like that.

 

“Bossy, bossy. Are you sure that you don't have blue blood running in your veins?” In Louis' opinion Harry should definitely be more freaked out by the revelation of Louis actually trying to break into his flat, but he wasn't complaining. He liked this Harry.

 

“You got me. I am of royal descent. They scratched me off the family tree when they found out that I was a kleptomaniac. Apparently stealing from the family fault isn't taken too lightly.”

 

Harry's body shook with laughter, his body almost folding in on itself like an origami frog, his knees bent, his shoulders hunched, his entire torso hunched forward. He was snorting softly with every rushed intake of breath in between his laughter and Louis was so so glad, that someone out there had decided that he could maybe have this.

 

“You two are so weird,” Nick suddenly said, his voice bursting whatever bubble Harry and Louis had caught themselves in, “I don't know why I thought bringing you two together would be a good idea.”

 

 

 

It didn't even take a day before Harry sent out that first text to Louis. And it took even less for them to fall into an easy banter with their texts, messaging to and fro every hour of every day.

 

And yet it took them a week to come to this.

 

_Can I take you out to dinner?_

 

**I don't know, Harry, can you?**

 

_Do you want to go out with me?_

 

**That's a bit forward isn't it? I thought we were just talking about dinner here.**

 

Harry giggled and cuddled further into his pillow, the soft orange light of the lazy Sunday sun warming his skin where it peeked out from under his blankets.

 

_Will you stop being difficult and just answer my question_ , he typed into his phone, his thumb cramping up a little bit with how awkwardly he held his phone, a wide grin splitting his face.

 

**My my Harold, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today**

 

He groaned and he wished he could say that he was honestly annoyed by those antics, wished he could say of himself that this was something he didn't like, didn't expect, didn't want, but his heart was beating a mile per minute in his chest, the reverberations of it making his world tremble and his eyes go fuzzy, while his cheeks started to burn with the sheer force with which they opened his face into a smile. A silly silly love struck smile.

 

Sighing frustratedly, Harry let his phone drop onto his forehead, loosely holding onto one end of it, tapping the device against his eyebrow.

 

* pling *

 

In his haste to get his phone screen to light up again, Harry hit himself in the face twice, but he didn't even register the slight pain it left behind.

 

**I would love to**

 

Are you free tonight?

 

**Subtlety isn't your strong suit is it?**

 

Harry groaned in embarrassment. He should have played it cooler, he should have made himself sound more aloof.

 

A second messaged came through: **I am free though**

 

Or maybe desperate was the new sexy, or maybe Louis was just as keen on seeing him again. Dating him even.

 

A warm feeling of content excitement settled in Harry's stomach, making the butterfly inked onto his stomach come to life.

 

He was taking Louis Tomlinson out on a date. Giggling Harry snuggled deeper into his pillows, absent-mindedly scrolling up and down in their chat to keep his screen from turning off, when he saw another bubble appearing on the screen.

 

**can I swing around at 8pm?**

 

And if there was a ridiculous typo in Harry's hastily typed 'yeah', then at least Louis had the courtesy not to mention it.

 

 

As eager as Harry had been this morning, as nervous was he ten minutes before Louis was supposed to be there. He hadn't planned anything in particular for their night, too scared of picking the wrong thing, and had in the end just decided to take Louis to one of his favourite diners, hoping that love really went through the stomach. But now, so close to the actual date, Harry began to fear that he might seem unprepared, or worse, unmotivated to Louis with his silly plan to take him to a diner that could hold 8 people at most, and served breakfast till the early hours of the morning. Maybe it was silly. Maybe he should have asked Louis to choose something to do. Louis would surely do something exciting. Being somewhat of a criminal after all. Actually, Harry should probably start asking questions soon. A failed robbery was one thing, abetting a criminal with his silence was another topic all together, and the inkling he had after their last meeting, that the failed robbery wasn't a chance meeting after all, but that Louis had been trying to break into his apartment, that, after everything, should worry him more than it did.

 

How had Louis known his middle name? And why? Logically there was only one explanation and worrisomely it also coincided with the fact that, and Harry had realized that at night after seeing Louis at Nick's, that Harry shouldn't have been home that day. More accurately, the entire week. He had cancelled the trip with Gemma on such short notice – if someone would have wanted to rob him, that would have been the perfect time. If Louis – but no. Harry wouldn't ruin tonight with worrying about this. He finally had Louis. Paranoid and most of all useless thoughts like that would have to wait, especially since in Harry's opinion Louis seemed as harmless as a field mouse. Maybe more the Jerry-type like mouse, but still – mischievousness didn't make a bad person.

 

Taking a deep breath, Harry started tugging at the hem of his dress shirt, the slide of the soft black material against his goose-bump covered skin, a good sensory distraction to bring him back to the present.

 

And then the shrill sound of the door bell broke through the silence of the flat. He could do this.

 

After buzzing Louis up, Harry turned to his mirror hanging in the entrance hall, picking at a few stray strands of his hair, trying to save whatever was left to save, before there was a timid knock on the door.

 

The boy waiting on the other side of the door was breathtaking. Which Harry knew, of course he did, he had fantasized about this boy for weeks, but _this_ boy, this one, this one was on a different level.

 

His hair was a careful mess that was artfully draped over his forehead, making him look like he had just rolled out of bed. An image that Harry wanted to cherish forever. But the remnant smell of hairspray that clouded around him together with the bitter sweet smell of perfume told a different story, one of careful hands, and a lot of time.

 

The shirt he was wearing was almost see through despite its midnight blue colour, and the collar of the jeans jacket he had chosen to wear on top was pulled up, bringing the focus even more to his sharp cheekbones and his jawline that was lightly dusted with a reddish beard. A very kissable beard. A very very kissable scruffy beard, that would feel amazing in so many places.

 

“You look very handsome,” said the human piece of art in front of him, stuffing his hands into his back pockets as he slowly let his gaze wander from Harry's toes to his face, lingering on certain curves and spots, making Harry's skin tingle with want.

 

“So do you. So, yes, do you. Very handsome.” His throat was unbelievably dry and he had never felt as inadequate as he did right now. Maybe he should bring up the question of their first meeting. Better end it know before this boy could break his heart. “You look beautiful,” he breathed and decided in the next intake of air that a broken heart would be better than a cowardly one.

  
“Should I come in or do you want to whisk me away to some place?” Louis asked and smirked devilishly, riding on the hight of Harry's blush and the charm of his stutter.

 

“I thought we could go for dinner?” Harry said with a small shrug of his shoulders, already prepared to overthrow all of his plans should Louis only hint at not being okay with it. But Louis just gave him a radiant smile and nodded, already excitedly stepping farther into the corridor to get to the elevator, and said: “Oh thank God, because I'm starving.”

 

The diner was illuminated in soft pink lights, its leather booths shining in a more pronounced version of the LED lights on the ceiling, their shiny surface reflecting the light back towards the middle of the room, giving the whole room the feel of being a big bubblegum bubble, every thing inside of it otherworldly and fragile. They found a seat in a corner booth.

 

And while Louis easily slid onto the seat, his smaller body giving him no troubles with rearranging his limbs, Harry stumbled and tripped twice, before he had folded his body comfortable enough. Hoping to distract from his gangly body Harry offered Louis his biggest smile and blushed a colour worthy of their booth, when he saw Louis raised eyebrow and the mocking glint in his eyes. He was biting his lip as if he were trying to stop himself from laughing out loud right away.

 

“I must say I'm impressed.”

 

Harry ignored him and made a grab for the laminated menu, hiding his face. He didn't even get past the appetizers before a delicate hand pulled the menu away from his face.

 

“Hey, I'm just messing with you Harry.” All of the previous mischief had left Louis' face and Harry could only stare at the soft boy in front of him, when he lend him a reassuring smile. “This place seems really nice, actually. I just saw a guy three tables over getting served a huge stack of strawberry pancakes, the pile was at least as big as his face! God, I would kill for strawberry pancakes!”

 

“Really?” He breathed and finally completely dropped the card. He already knew what he wanted anyway. “I like banana pancakes more to be honest.”

 

Louis gasped loudly, his whole body jerking backwards in an act of dramatic betrayal. “Bananas should never be put into anything ever. You either eat them like a normal person. In one piece, or you just don't. Those are universal rules!”

 

Giggling Harry replied: “I have never heard of those rules. You have to write them all down for me once. I'm sure you'll come up with quite a few impressive ones.”

 

“Maybe I will. I most definitely will. Banana pancakes are evil. The taste mushy. Pancakes shouldn't taste mushy.”

 

Nodding, Harry agreed and picked up his menu again, this time to hide his manic grin.

 

Everything after that felt like flying. Neither of them could stop smiling, the bickering between them turning softer and fonder with every glance they shared with each other. The moment when Harry stole something from Louis' plate (the strawberry pancake tower truly was a sight to behold and it tasted just as delicious as Louis had made it out to be) was punished with a swat to his hand, the sting soothed by the raucous laughter of his offender. “Keep your hands to yourself. There can only be one thief in this relationship.”

 

The bubble of the restaurant had burst around Harry at those words, a smaller, pinker, more smitten bubble forming around just the two of them right after, and Harry couldn't stop himself from staring longingly at Louis, wanting so much all at once that it tugged painfully in the pits of his stomach.

 

He knew that he always fell in love too quickly. He fell fast and he fell hard, and he rarely got anything in return. His only gain were the two seconds of reckless abandon that made the world turn a bit faster for a while, made his heart speed up and time slow, before it came to screeching halt, the loss of the accumulated centrifugal force making him stumble and fall as if gravity had dropped out from under him. But he never learned, did he.

 

Here he was sitting across a beautiful boy that had a piece of pancake hanging on his chin because he had laughed loudly with a full mouth and something had dropped out, and his heart had swelled twice the size already. Here he was watching this young impossible man wipe away the laughter tears away from his eyes, only managing to smear residue syrup of his fingers into the crinkles behind his eyes. And he didn't want to leave ever again.

 

They continued talking about nothing and everything, the night passing them by so quickly that it took a kindly smiling older waitress with a neat bun keeping her greying hair away from her face who reminded them they closed in half an hour to think of the time again.

 

“No way is it already 3am.” Louis said and blew out his cheeks in surprise.

 

“Fuck, I have to work tomorrow.”

 

“Let me walk you home then.”

 

The streets of London were pretty much abandoned at this time of the night regardless of the many souls living in the many thick clotted veins of this hot blooded heart that called itself a city.

 

The only sounds were dancing plastic bags in windy alleys, the random car alarm, and the muted sound of hooting coming from the last night club staggerers. The silence now reigning between the two tired men walking down the sparsely illuminated streets was comfortable in their mutual exhaustion and the calm contentedness that seeped out of their every pore.

 

“I never thought I'd say this but,” Harry curiously looked to his left, waiting for Louis to go on. He felt a hand brush up against his sleeve. “I'm glad Nick tricked me into coming to his flat that day.”

 

“Me too.” Without looking away from the softly illuminated profile of Louis, Harry made a grab for the elusive hand still dangling so closely next to his, squeezing the smaller and colder fingers gently. “Me too.”

 

It did raise one question in Harry's mind though. One he hadn't considered before.

 

“How did Nick know? I mean, did he know? Or was it completely coincidental that he brought me home to meet you?”

 

The grip on his fingers loosened and his heart sped up uncomfortably.

 

Before he could take back his question, hoping to avoid a truth he wasn't ready for yet, the hold on his hand tightened again, and the way to his airways cleared up again.

  
“He knew some of it. I talked about you.”

 

“But does he know about the whole… breaking and entering?” Silence stretched on like tar, black and heavy. “Is he a thief as well?” Harry's grip on Louis' hand turned from comfortingly tight to bone crushing with very second passing by, the sound of synchronized steps hitting the pavement counting down the beat of his heart.

 

“He isn't.”

 

“So he doesn't know how we first met?”

 

“He knows enough, but he's your friend as well. It's not fair for me to lay all of this bare when he could report back to you as well.” Louis sounded calm but Harry was sure he could also hint an edge of nervousness, something he chose to entirely blamed on the fact that he must have caught Louis out on talking about him in the first place. Apparently the cool façade from the supermarket had been nothing more than that: a façade.

 

“I'm going to ask him the next time I see him then. I'm going to figure you out soon enough, Louis Tomlinson.”

 

 

 

Their first official date ended with a long hug, two bodies pressed together tightly swaying to and fro in the wind. If Louis concentrated hard enough he could still feel the contour of Harry's body against his. His arms around his waist, the tingle his warm breath left behind on the juncture where his neck met his shoulder.

 

He could definitely still remember how he smelled, remember how dark curls had tickled his nose as he had tucked his face into the side of his face.

 

After that first time their meetings escalated in the same easy manner as their texts had. With the first barrier carefully moved out of the way it was like a new gravitational power had been let loose between them, pulling them closer together, faster and faster. Their impending crash was almost palpable.

 

After a while they didn't even try to get out, most of the time they just chose to meet at each other's flats, not too bothered to be seen in pyjamas by the other one, with flat and unstyled hair while they lunged on each other's couches, or sat with their feet dangling in their kitchens, talking about whatever crossed their minds. An endless stream of laughter and conversation that never seemed to dry out. Louis couldn't remember when anything had ever felt this easy.

 

But of course this was Louis' life so nothing could be enjoyed without something reminding him that he didn't deserve any of it.

 

The metaphorical dark cloud that his phone emitted on his night stand was dark and heavy with the secrets Louis was desperately trying to keep away from Harry. Almost every day Louis lay awake for almost an hour, starring at the blue tinged screen of his old phone, reading and rereading the one text message he had received about a month ago now. The block letters announcing an unknown number was like a dangerous prayer keeping him up, night after night after night.

 

Stupid coward blocking his number even thought he had broken all their agreements by contacting Louis in the first place. Why did he get the privilege of hacking into every system known to man to get his greedy fingers on Louis' number, but didn't give Louis the right to have the same leverage over him. And what kind of crap warning message had that been anyway? _They saw you_? Saw him where? Saw him with whom? Was Harry in danger as well now? Was he seen coming to the apartment or leaving it? Which was an important distinction in Louis' book. Because it made the difference in everything that mattered: Did they see him simply check out a possible scene, or did they see him leave without a painting stuck under his arm, giving them only one possible deduction: that the painting was still in its original hiding place and therefore definitely putting Harry at risk.

 

His stomach churned at the thought of dragging Harry down along side him. He had long ago given up on a happy end for himself, the message driven home only by the fact that his only friend had abandoned him in the middle of a crisis to save his own skin, almost getting Louis arrested in a foreign country. He knew that he would most likely end up locked up at the end of the line, most likely alone, and he had just started being okay with that. And then Harry had stumbled into his life, three times he had knocked on the walls Louis had built around himself, and then they had crumbled and now Louis' only choice to save Harry was to force him into a siege with him.

 

If the people he warned him about even hinted at a connection between Harry and Louis that went beyond the relationship between Harry's flat and the hiding spot of Louis' prize, then they were already dead.

 

Turning his phone over and over in his hand, Louis lay on his bed, starring at his ceiling. His eyes lost their focus time and time again, making everything hazy before he forced himself to blink and organize his thoughts again. He would have to do something. He was clueless as to how he was supposed to get himself out of this mess, but he knew that he didn't want to let Harry go. Not right now. He wanted to ride the high he felt around Harry a little longer.

 

With grim determination he brought his phone over his face and powered it on again, the screen already set to his messages.

 

His fingers were surprisingly steady as he typed out his reply, the time stamp between the last message and his own scarier in the grand scheme of things than the fact that he was texting _him_ again.

 

**How do you know that. Are you still working for them. Tell me everything you know. If you want to help me, do it right.**

 

Sucking in a painful breath that sliced through his throat like a knife, Louis hit send and immediately opened another chat, the one now immediately beneath the one he closed.

 

**Are you free tonight? I'm in the mood for a lazy night, but getting food delivered for one person is always sadder than it should be.**

 

The reply came immediately.

 

_Don't order anything, I can come around and cook for you. I just got my new magazine and you're going to love this recipe. Be around in an hour?_

 

At least this was easy.

 

“Will you stop putting your dirty hands where they don't belong?” Harry admonished and playfully slapped Louis' thigh as he tried to pull his pan out of Louis' reach. Louis was sitting on his kitchen counter, blocking Harry's way to the spice rag, and sucked on his finger with overly dramatic hollowed cheeks.

  
“I'm just testing the food, Curly. I need to make sure you do it right.”

 

Harry giggled and put the pan onto the stove again, giggling when Louis made a grab for the delicious red sauce again.

 

“It's going to be finished soon anyway. You can judge my cooking skills when it's all set.”

 

“Where's the fun in that though?”

 

Harry paused and looked up at Louis, his grin too wide for his face, his curls like corkscrews around his face from the heat of the kitchen.

 

“Pleasure lies in the anticipation. Suspense is a wonderful thing.”

 

“That's a straight up lie.” Louis laughed and poked Harry's thigh with his foot, realizing only a second too late how close that brought him to Harry's crotch. But he seemed unbothered, his smile only turning more blinding.

 

“Hurry up then, I'm starving and you've been taking for ages.”

 

“Go set the table and stop intruding on my space. We'll see who's finished first?”

 

“Do you honestly think you can race me on this?” He asked and had to suppress a snort when Harry turned an unimpressed eye on him.

 

“I know I can race you on this. Put those plates on the table and hurry, I'll be done in a few seconds.” He pointedly turned his spoon around in the bubbling sauce and switched one hotplate off.

 

“Not an endurance man, are you?” Louis said and jumped off the counter, cackling manically when Harry took the dish towel and threw it after him.

 

For the past few meetings their jokes had turned into dirtier and innuendo heavier bickering, but so far no one had been brave enough to go for the next step. There had been cheek kisses, hugs, the occasional eskimo kiss when they fell asleep together on the couch and Louis had caught Harry starring at his lips often enough now to know that they were probably on the same page here.

 

But to take that decisive step was more than Louis could stomach. A kiss would close those door to the walls he had had to rebuild, and they would seal Harry in with Louis, in Louis' castle, would force him to help Louis' siege. And no matter how much he wanted, yearned for it really, he couldn't risk it.

 

When they sat down to dinner their chairs were so close together, that their knees brushed together, their feet already entangled to make space for the two of them. This was what was normal to them by now.

 

The food Harry had prepared was delicious, spicy and good, the chicken perfectly soft and seasoned and not even Harry's self-satisfied grin was enough to make Louis stop moaning out loud with every bite he took.

 

“I should hire you as my personal cook or something. Have you move in with me and just make you cook me dinner every day.”

 

Even though he was mumbling through the food in his mouth, Harry's fondness didn't waver. Louis felt his fond gaze on his skin like gasoline about to be lit, cold enough to give him goosebumps, but the promise of flames enough to make him burn up from the inside. He wouldn't even need a match to light the flame if Harry just cherished him long enough. He would gladly burn down to ashes in front of Harry's curiously loving eyes.

 

“Only dinner? What about breakfast?” Harry asked and poked at his food, delicately spreading the sauce over a piece of his chicken, ruining the picture perfect of classy dining habits, by going for his bite tongue first.

 

“I still don't think I can trust you with breakfast.” Louis replied cockily and stole the last paprika off Harry's plate, chewing it with exaggerated noise.

 

“I'm going to make you the best banana pancakes you have ever tasted one day and then you'll see that you've been wrong all along.”

 

“Doubtful.” Louis raised his eyebrows, biting down on his snatched good with a content hum.

 

“Always the sceptic, but I know I'm right.”

 

Louis refrained himself from another comeback and used his foot to get his point across, softly nudging Harry's feet out of the way, so that he could stretch his own out.

 

Later they eventually ended up on the couch together. Both of them were dangling a wine glass between their fingers, their lips stained red, their cheeks pink and their bellies warm from the food.

 

This felt like so many other nights they have spent together, the familiarity opening a door in Louis' heart that made him lose his breath for a moment. This, he realised was something that felt a lot like home.

 

He laughed at Harry's jokes, teased him when the jokes got too bad, and giggled at Harry's disgruntled face when he told him so. He touched Harry, his shoulder, his hair, his thigh when he had to lean over him to get to the wine bottle to refill their glasses, his fingers when he saw him tip his glass too far to the side, the wine sloshing around dangerously, he touched his cheek when he saw an eyelashe softly resting on Harry's overheated skin. He closed the last bit of space between them when he pulled his legs up on the couch, pressing his toes under Harry's thigh, crossing his arms over his knees, and letting the glass dangle over the ground.

 

And still. This was normal. They were always tactile. Harry didn't seem to think anything weird of it.

 

And yet Louis felt hotter than usually, felt as if every touch was a punch to his sternum, his heart almost breaking his ribs with how fast it was beating.

 

He knew, logically, that Harry had been meaning more to him than just another friend for a long time. He might be a little bit messed up inside, but he wasn't dumb, he wasn't blind. He knew that they had been dancing around each other for a long time. He could still feel every phantom kiss Harry had given him with just a quick glance down to Louis' lips, his tongue peeking out to wet his wanting lips.

 

But tonight was a breaking point. Maybe it was the fact that he had finally answered that text, maybe that had broken something inside of him. He didn't know and he didn't want to think about it any more. Just for tonight he didn't want to think about all of that any more. All of those secrets, all of that abandonment, all of that anger and, lastly, all the danger it brought into their lives. He didn't want to think any more.

 

“Harry,” he said quietly. Harry's startled breath telling him that he must have just interrupted him in the middle of a sentence.

  
“Are you okay, Lou? You look a bit flustered.” He leaned forward and put his wine glass down on the small coffee table in front of them. It was a rickety old thing that Louis had stolen out of someone's backyard when he had first come to London. He had just gotten his flat, but the money hadn't been enough for furniture, so he had helped himself to some. The table was the only thing he had kept of that time. Every other piece of furniture he had substituted with new stuff as soon as he had had the means to do so. The table had started to grow on him though. With its peeling red paint, the various stains on it, from condensation, coffee spills and various greasy pizza boxes. It had charmed with its wobbly legs, one of the four definitely shorter than the other ones, but he could never figure out which one it was, because no matter under which leg he put beer mats it would always wobble. So he had given up. If his table had a life of its own who was he to restrain it.

 

Harry had already laughed at him at length, painting him a sentimental fool, but even he couldn't make the table stand still, so his wine glass slid a few inches to the left as soon as he leaned back, and turned his full attention back to Louis.

 

“I'm fine, I just...” He didn't know what to say. _I want you? I can't wait any more? Why aren't you kissing me yet?_

 

“Do you want me to get you a glass of water? Maybe you've had enough of wine for tonight.” Harry made to stand up, the weight and warmth of his thigh leaving Louis' feet and Louis panicked. That was the only way he could explain what he did next.

 

“No,” he screeched and with no regards for his wine glass he made a grab for Harry's shirt, the glass slowly rolling away on the carpet, leaving a trail of blood and glass bones where it had cracked. Apparently Louis had used more force than he had intended to, because Harry toppled over, falling on top of him and it was instinct for Louis to open his legs, so that Harry wouldn't fall onto his bony knees.

 

They were pressed together, from chest to toes, and Harry only stared at him, his biceps bulging out next to Louis' head where he was trying to keep himself lifted above the body underneath him.

 

“Lou.” Nothing more than a breath. And then he stopped. The rhythmic feeling of his ribcage moving against Louis' stopped, he was holding his breath and then he came crashing down, gasping for breath between Louis' lips.

 

Louis had kissed a lot of people before. There were kisses meant to shut someone up, there were kisses used for gathering information, there were the kind of kisses that were only there to swallow up whichever other sound was about to burst out of you during sex, kisses to ground you, kisses that started fights, kisses that ended them, kisses to say hello, kisses to say good bye. Louis had almost lived though all of them. But this was different.

 

He felt flooded, his body only buoying on his couch. Nothing seemed as important as the taste of Harry on his tongue, as the feeling of his lips laying claim to his own.

 

Sighing Louis opened his mouth, letting Harry in, their tongues softly meeting in the middle, licking wounds they hadn't yet shared, healing each other with only the promise of more of this.

 

Urged on by sudden desperation, Louis tangled his hands in Harry's hair, pulling him closer, and tipping his head to the side to get a better angle at Harry's mouth. The soft sound of their lips meeting and parting the only sound in the room next to their heavy breathing.

 

Harry's body was already a burning heat on top of him, but something still wasn't right. He moved his legs around wanting to get rid of the dull pain where his belt was digging into his skin. The tumble Harry had taken might have brought him right where Louis wanted him, but it had still been a fall with little to none grace to it. Louis' clothes were rumpled where he had tried to get out of the way as quickly as possible.

 

And suddenly, when he put his left leg on the ground to gain more leverage everything fit into place. Suddenly their crotches were aligned and the only thing Louis could concentrate on, the only thing his brain could translate into feeling, was the feeling of Harry's bulge rubbing against his.

 

Harry groaned on top of him, and without further ado, he ground down. His hips moving in slow figure eights driving Louis out of his mind.

 

“Off.” He didn't know who said it, but suddenly both their hands were busy, shaking because they couldn't decide where to touch first. Harry impatiently kissed a way from Louis' mouth to his cheeks to the hollow in his throat, his breath hot and uneven on Louis' skin. His hands disappeared down Louis' body, stroking over his sides as if he were something precious. Biting into Louis' shoulder, a reprimand Louis realized, he slapped Louis useless hands out of the way and started fiddling with Louis' belt, the leather singing when he roughly ripped it out of the buckle.

 

His fingers were nimble and fast when he popped the button to his jeans and Louis keened loudly when he pulled the hard fabric of his jeans down roughly. The feeling of his tongue licking up his neck gave him the incentive to move again, kicking the last bit of his pants from his feet, canting his hips up to meet Harry's thrusts more dead on.

 

It still wasn't enough, it wasn't. Louis burned with the desire to feel Harry as close as possible, skin on skin, but somehow they didn't get to that. Impatiently they fisted their hands in each other's shirts, yanking the fabric as far up as it allowed, Louis hands spread over Harry's shoulder blades like a promise, while Harry had pushed Louis' shirt up under his armpits, where the material caught. Louis was too desperate to feel Harry's back muscles move under his finger tips to lift them up and get the shirt out of the way.

 

This would have to do. The reassuring and hot weight of Harry's bare chest against Louis' own, the rough slide of jeans against cotton where Harry was rutting against Louis' groin, his own jeans still firmly in place, as if getting Louis undressed was the only thing of importance to him. And Louis didn't want to correct him, loving the almost painful drag of the zipper against his cock almost too much to help Harry out of his jeans as well.

 

They had stopped kissing, their breathing too ragged to coordinate anything as complicated as that, but Harry's mouth was hovering above his, their lips bumping against each other whenever Harry thrust down and the dampness of Harry's breath on his chin was enough to drive Louis wild. As was the one string of saliva that had formed between them, connection them in a manner so intimate that Louis didn't dare disturb it with something as ordinary as a kiss.

 

With his left leg still on the floor for support, Louis lifted his right one out from under Harry's legs and opened it over Harry's waist, tugging him closer with a gentle push of his foot against Harry's arse. The groan he got in response was worth the slight twinge in his hamstring at the move. Everything was too constricted on this couch. Even the smallest movement became an Olympic sport on this piece of furniture.

 

Harry's left hand wandered from Louis' chest, where he had idly been tracing patterns into his chest hair to Louis' trembling thigh, his hand going even further down, grabbing him firmly where his thigh met his arse, pulling him down, and then – Louis keened loudly, his head falling backwards, his fingernails painfully digging into Harry's back – up. Up, up, up, even closer to his crotch.

 

“You have no idea how long I have waited for this,” Harry growled out between his teeth, nibbling a line down Louis' collarbones. The wet marks he left behind turned first into patches of goosebumps when the cold air hit them, and then blood came rushing under the skin, where he had bitten too strongly and bruises were forming already. It was all too much.

 

Louis could feel Harry's thrust getting sloppy, their rhythm broken for his very own pursuit of release and it broke something inside of Louis, the realization of being wanted that much. Of being desired like that.

 

With his fingers scratching down a long line down Harry's back, he crashed into his orgasm, the world turning gloriously colourful behind his eyelids as he came and came and came inside his pants, the sticky material only intensifying the pain of Harry's jeans dragging against the over-sensitive skin.

 

“Hazza,” he gasped, his body relaxing under Harry, giving himself up for Harry's pleasure.

 

And it didn't take long. Suddenly Harry's entire frame froze, the hand on Louis' thigh becoming a painful weight on Louis' skin, Harry's face hidden in the side of Louis' neck, and then he shuddered through his orgasm, chanting Louis' name like a litany.

 

 

 

Harry woke up to the sound of a phone vibrating angrily on the bedside table. The hard surface making the sound reverberate unnecessarily, the device jumping up and down with the force of its vibrations. Not awake enough yet to remember his surroundings Harry made a blind grab for it, bringing the screen alive with a swipe of his thumb and groggily blinked at the too bright screen.

 

Only when he had read the first three notifications that appeared on the top of the screen four times in a row did he fully comprehend what he was doing.

 

With a curse Harry threw Louis' phone back on the night stand. The black phone finally lying still.

 

Three missed calls from an unknown number. One cut off preview of a text message.

 

_Make it disappear again. They are not going to spare his life if -_

 

He didn't know why his heart was trying to punch a medium sized hole through his rib cage. That text message could have meant anything. Maybe it was a prank. Maybe it was a very good hyperbole. Maybe it was just none of his business.

 

Running a hand through his sleep tussled hair he slowly turned his head. Louis was peacefully, blissfully asleep next to him. His hair was a mess, a few patches of it still damp, because, just like Harry, he had jumped under the shower after whatever happened on that couch. Harry on the other hand had just twisted his hair up into a bun last night, not really a huge fan of going to bed with wet hair, knowing full well that his locks would be a mess the next day.

 

They hadn't showered together. Nothing else had happened after they had come down from their high on the couch, their pants sticky with come, their chests flushed and their hair plastered to their sweaty foreheads and necks.

 

After lazily lying together for a good half an hour, trading lazy kisses and soft touches, they had decided to get a move on. Slowly untangling themselves from each other before standing up. Sheepishly tucking at their respective crotches they had straightened out the couch, Louis had started cleaning up the mess he had made by dropping his wine glass and then Louis had led Harry to the bed room. Offering him a pair of joggers and a worn out shirt that was a size to small for him, and telling him to give him his pants and jeans, he was going to throw it in the washing machine.

 

It had been domestic. It had been calm and sweet and not that different to how they had treated each other before they had dry humped in the living room like hormone crazy teenagers. It had been amazing. And then Louis had offered up the shower, saying that he would do the washing up in the mean time, since Harry had already done the cooking. And that had been that.

 

Harry had already been under covers, freshly showered and in his new soft outfit, smelling Louis all around him, on the comforter, on the pillow, on his own skin as he tucked his hand under his cheek, watching Louis hobble around the room trying to rough dry his hair as quickly as possible.

 

They had said good night with soft kisses. Kisses that strayed from their spot on each other's lips and wandered to sleep warm cheeks, always cold nose tips, kisses that turned to small nibbles on earlobes and kisses that were nothing more than a brush of skin against skin, until they fell asleep. Turned towards each other and sated in the feeling of togetherness.

 

And now Harry's paranoia was ruining it.

 

Turning fully onto his side, he slowly moved untangled his legs from the blanket so that he could push it between his thighs and folded his hands under his cheeks.

 

Louis was on the verge of waking up, Harry could see it in the hectic fluttering of his eyelashes and the spastic clenching of his fist next to his head, his muscles ready for a new day where his brain still yearned for rest.

 

This was all his now if Harry just believed in it hard enough. His fantasies of Louis walking around like a golden dream in his kitchen were this close to becoming reality. This was the boy Harry wanted with all he had to give.

 

But what he had seen on that phone had reminded him of one ugly truth.

 

The boy currently lying in front of him, as vulnerable as everyone was in sleep, soft and small and breakable between the white sheets, had more secrets than Harry was brave enough to ask about.

 

This dream of a man was also a criminal. Was a thief. Was someone who had wanted to gain access to Harry's apartment without leaving a trace and someone who had failed. This was someone who received texts that sounded like something straight out of a bad crime show and this was the man that Harry knew deep down had something to do with whatever had happened at The Gherkin. It had been weeks and weeks of _this –_ softness and fondness and a closeness that Harry knew was unique, and yet, he had never asked about any of it. And Louis hadn't so much as hinted at giving up his secrets on his own.

 

Harry's brain was running on overdrive, letting it spiral into scenarios that made him more anxious than anything else. What if this was it? What is this was the sign that they should stop this? They had had a good run hadn't they? If Louis couldn't tell him what was going on, then Harry would have to leave. Right? Honesty was important, was it not? But honesty could not be expected when the other party didn't even have the patience nor the respect to wait the other one out. Maybe Harry wasn't worthy of whatever Louis had to share.

 

A disgruntled whine from Louis forced Harry back into the real world.

 

“What time is it?” Louis grumbled and lifted his fist to his eye to rub the last remnants of sleep out of his eyes.

 

“I don't know,” Harry said quietly and turned his face deeper into the pillowcase; Louis face turning slightly fuzzy around the edges when Harry only had one eye left to focus on him, the other one hidden in the depths of his pillow.

 

“Can you gimme my phone?” Louis yawned and punched his way into wakefulness by stretching his arms towards the ceiling.

 

Harry turned around, staring at the phone that now silently sat on top of the table. Calming his breathing he reached for it. He hadn't done anything wrong. He hadn't known it was Louis'. He hadn't opened anything, he -

 

Louis' brows furrowed as soon as his screen came to life. And Harry's heart plummeted into an abyss he wasn't even aware he had dug into his soul.

 

“Is everything okay?” He was a coward first and foremost. He just hoped he had never said otherwise, or else he would be a liar as well and he couldn't stomach that thought.

 

Louis had turned onto his back, the phone a dead weight in his left hand. Harry could see the necklace of love bites he had left behind on Louis last night, their soft pink colour such a contrast to the tense posture of the boy they belonged to.

 

When did everything become so difficult? Rapunzel had never had worry so much.

 

“Just an old friend,” he stumbled over the last word. “He seems to think that I still trust him as blindly as I did when we were a thing.”

 

“More than a friend then?” Harry asked quietly.

 

Louis turned his head slowly, the rustle of the pillow under his head a nice distraction to the ugly erratic beating of Harry's heart. “No, just friends. Partners maybe. But never like that.”

 

“Partners in crime?”

 

Louis nodded and Harry knew that they were talking about the literal sense of the phrase. As thick as thieves.

 

“What happened?”

 

“He left.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Fuck me if I know, but I'm glad he did. If my suspicions turn out to be true and he works for them, then I'm glad that he cut me out of his life, because back then? I would have followed him blindly.”

 

“Them?” Harry didn't know for how much more he could ask, but he had to try.

 

Louis stayed silent for a long time. His fingers were twitching restlessly against the hard cover of his phone as he stared at something just next to Harry's face.

 

“Why didn't you call the cops on me?” His voice was subdued and small, his eyes still not focused on Harry.

 

“Should I have?” Harry should probably feel more afraid. He should probably run. He didn't. He stayed until Louis dragged his gaze back to his face, studying him silently. And Harry caved and answered. “You didn't seem dangerous. I don't think you're dangerous. I think you're good.”

 

His mouth was uncomfortably dry and the words were nothing more but a rasp but Louis still reacted violently. His mouth turned into an ugly sneer and he flopped back onto his back, their eye contact broken.

 

“I know you know that I came specifically for you. I know you're not that stupid, Harry. You should have called the Bizzies on me the second you got my full name.”

 

Harry shook his head and tried to reach for Louis, but he let his hand drop between them before he could get to Louis. He didn't know if Louis wanted him to touch right now and maybe words were more important right now.

 

“You didn't come back.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I'm not going to pretend that I'm not trying to understand why you broke into my flat. Why you wilfully broke into my home, why you knew my full name, why I am that important. I'm not playing dumb just because I don't pressure you into answering all those questions. I want to know what made me interesting enough to rob, but you didn't come back. You were,” he shook his head, “You aren't a threat to me. You would never hurt me, right? Am I right, Lou?”

 

“You couldn't have known that though. You should have reported me. You could be safe now.”

 

Harry clenched his eyes shut and tried to shut up the roaring voice in the back of his mind. But they didn't shut up. “Safe from you or safe from them?”

 

Louis whipped his head back towards him. His eyes were wide in panic and the grip on his phone tightened as he realize that Harry must have seen part of that message, the moment he realized that once again, Harry wasn't playing dumb.

 

“You saw?”

 

“I thought it was my phone, I'm sorry. I didn't open it. I didn't… I don't know if I'm right or not. So here is my first question. The first real one. Safe from you or safe from them?”

 

“Them.”

 

And then they were back at square one again. Because the last time Harry had asked who they were Louis had deflected the question.

 

“Who are they? What do they have on us?” He didn't say what do they have on me, because he didn't think that he was the main obstacle in whatever they had planned. Maybe he was just a good hostage. Maybe he was bait.

 

“They are the bad guys. Even among thieves. You don't want to cross paths with Cowell's pack.”

 

“And your friend did?”

 

“His name's Zayn.” It was like the will to fight had left Louis' body abruptly and his next words sounded like one long exhale, he was letting everything out, his voice as monotone as a teacher's droning on about things they had told a millions time before. But Harry was sure that this was the first time Louis had told this story.

 

“Zayn always… wanted more. Not more money or more fame or anything like that, but he always wanted to prove to himself that he was worth more than society thought of him. He had started stealing when he was 10 and his family was low on money. It wasn't that he would steal money. He was a walking personification of anxiety and pick pocketing was always too stressful for him, but he stole candy and toys and small things to make his sisters happy because yes they had enough money to stay afloat but not enough to spend it on silly little things for their kids. And he didn't want his sisters to get bullied for not having the same as their classmates, because they already had to hear enough shit about their skin colour and their religion and -” He chuckled darkly. “The world is a shitty place, isn't it? He got caught though. We always do. And his parents they didn't understand his reasons, they just saw a thief and they were so angry. I remember that time. Zayn slept at my place for almost two weeks because he couldn't look his parents in the eye any more. And then he ran away.”

 

“And you followed.” Harry guessed and finally closed that gap between their bodies and slowly slid the phone out of Louis' hand to entangle their fingers together, squeezing tightly.

 

“I did.”

 

“What happened then?”

 

“We were a team. And then he ran away again. I can't know for sure if he is still working with them, but I do know what they promised him the first time around and I know how manipulative they are. I know how much power they have.” The pressure on Harry's hand almost became unbearable but he didn't let go. He wouldn't let go again.

 

“So what do they want from you?” He asked again, because even though the phone was now out of sight, having slipped somewhere in between the sheets, it still had a threat saved somewhere onto it's drive and Harry wouldn't let that slide.

 

“I stole something from them. Years ago. And Zayn helped me hide it. Apparently they have eyes on me and now they think I'm in possession of their treasure again. Which isn't quite true. But without Zayn telling me more I can't decide what to do.”

 

“Should I be afraid?” Harry's voice was muffled in the sheets, but his grip on Louis stayed strong. He wouldn't make Louis believe that he was going to run.

 

“Always.”

 

And then he was being kissed as if tomorrow wouldn't even come any more.

 

 

Louis didn't know what he had done in his life to deserve a boy as brave as Harry in his life. He didn't know what he had done to be worthy of someone looking at him as if he had hung all the stars. As if he were the brightest of them all.

 

But he sure as hell wasn't going to question it and risk ruining whatever picture perfect he had stumbled into.

 

Not daring to break the contact between their lips he tried to wiggle his legs out of the comforter, his hands finding purchase in Harry's hair as he swung one of his legs over Harry's hips, accidentally biting Harry's lower lip when he swayed too far to the right.

 

“Sorry, sorry I...” he mumbled but quickly shut up when Harry pulled him roughly down, rolling his hips up into his arse.

 

Leaving one hand on Louis' lower back to support him on his perch on Harry's crotch, Harry used his other one to grab his neck, pulling him closer and closer, softly biting his bottom lip in return.

 

“Don't worry so much,” he breathed and kissed him again. His tongue licking into Louis' mouth with the utmost care as if he was soothing their respective bite wounds. Where his tongue was soft his hands were firm though and Louis shivered at the contradiction. He felt as if Harry could take him apart with his hands, which were big enough to almost cover the entire expanse of his back, hands that were currently sliding under his pants, a curious finger slowly ghosting between his cheeks, like a promise, but he knew that Harry's mouth, his tongue could put him together again. All soft and gentle and patient where his hands had left marks in eagerness before.

 

Wild with the thought of Harry using his mouth on parts of him that he had previously taken ownership of with his hands, Louis couldn't help himself but softly bit down on Harry's bottom lip again, just as much a promise as Harry's hand. A promise that he would definitely not hold himself back.

 

“Can I blow you?” Louis asked and kissed a slow trail over Harry's cheek, using his index finger to tilt Harry's head to the left to gain access to his throat. With Harry's chin still in his hand, Louis licked and nibbled his way down to Harry's collarbones until he felt Harry nod furiously, moaning when Louis kissed his way down his chest, tugging Harry's shirt up while he went down.

 

Sliding down to Harry's knees, Louis took a hold of the strings on Harry's joggers and pulled, his mouth never leaving the warm skin of Harry's stomach. With his nose buried in the sparse hair under Harry's belly button, he began to slowly slide down the soft material of his old joggers and Harry's underpants as well, leaving the material just above Harry's knees, not ready to leave his perch on top of Harry to get rid of them altogether.

 

Pressing one more lingering kiss into Harry's clenching belly, Louis slowly trailed his nose down inhaling the warm and thick smell of arousal as he settled in, Harry's cock bumping into his chin.

 

Taking his time to just revel in this moment, Louis closed his eyes and just stayed there, breathing in and out and feeling Harry's twitch under him. This was almost what he loved the most. The moment _right_ before. To know that he had his partner fixated on him and him alone, anticipating his next move, knowing that he had the power of them, over their release and their feelings without even really touching them.

 

It seemed that Harry wasn't as patient this morning, less in the mood to revel in the beauty of intimacy with Louis breathing hotly down on his leaking dick, because with a rough grip in Louis' hair, he slowly tugged him up, meeting his eyes with a clenched jaw and a wild look in his darkened eyes.

 

“Louis,” and he didn't need to say more. Turning his head quickly to kiss Harry's wrist and simultaneously loosening Harry's grip on his hair he leaned down again and, with one last glance to Harry's face, took him down in one glorious go.

 

“Fuck!” Harry cursed and tightened his grip on Louis' hair again, and normally, normally Louis wasn't that into someone grabbing his hair like that, but with Harry it made him just more and more eager, feeling Harry so desperately holding on to something to compose himself, holding onto Louis like that, as if Louis wasn't also the one breaking him down… Louis loved it. Loved it because he knew Harry's hand wasn't in his hair to direct him, he wouldn't push him down, he wouldn't force Louis into his own rhythm, only eager for his release. No Louis knew that Harry was using this to hold himself back. This was a reminder.

 

Hollowing his cheeks, he slowly pulled up, putting pressure on the thick vein on the underside of Harry's dick with his tongue, relishing on the feeling of Harry twitching inside of his mouth, his gag reflex piping up like muscle memory. Louis swallowed it down, breathing deeply through his nose to fight it down. Letting Harry slip out of his mouth, Louis used his hand to keep him warm, slowly rubbing up and down his shaft, his thumb slipping into Harry's slit after every third of fifth stroke. The inconstancy making Harry moan and shiver, making him helpless. Needy.

 

He waited until Harry looked down again, waited until their eyes met before he leaned down again, placing a delicate kiss on the crown of Harry's cock, before slowly opening his mouth to lick one broad swipe over the tip, suckling at the pre-come that had already gathered.

 

Then he pulled off again, peppering kisses up and down Harry's thighs. “I want you,” he bit into the milky skin on the inside of Harry's thigh, clenching his thighs together and settling more firmly on Harry's shins when Harry twitched violently in response. “To fuck my mouth.” He used his hand to guide Harry more towards his stomach, his thumb tracing circles under his slit, as he leaned down to lick over Harry's balls.

 

Harry groaned and Louis heard a loud smack. Looking up through hooded eyes he saw that Harry had slapped one hand against the headboard, his knuckles white where his fingers were scrabbling for purchase.

 

“Fuck, yes, yes, okay. Please. I'll be good.”

 

Louis's heart sped up at that promise. His mind spiralling into places where Harry's last three words would have a lot more meaning, where breaking that promise would result into punishment, and he eagerly swallowed Harry down again. Relaxing his jaw, and flattening his tongue, Louis stilled about half way down Harry's dick, breathing heavily through his mouth as he felt spit run down the side of his mouth, slowly leaving a trail down Harry's cock, before it slid into his pubic hair, darkening it more, or maybe it left a mess on his mattress, leaving a reminder of this in Louis' bed. Something tangible. More than the shape and smell of Harry on his pillows.

 

Waiting, he put both his hands on top of Harry's thighs, knowing that he would need something to ground himself to should Harry lose control too fast.

 

With a shaky breath Harry softly combed his hand through Louis' hair, before he settled his hand a bit further down from his previous spot near the top of his hand, his warm and slightly sweaty palm coming down to rest just above his nape, his thumb a reassuring pressure close to Louis' ear.

 

At first he slowly dragged Louis up, and Louis hummed in appreciation. The last time he had allowed someone to fuck his mouth they had pushed him straight down. He had known, somehow, that Harry would be different. Better.

 

And then as if he couldn't help himself he slowly thrust up, shallowly fucking himself into Louis' mouth. The sounds Harry made above him were music to Louis' ears. It was a mixture of wheezing breaths, Louis' name, and numerous curses. Louis hummed as if to thank him, and immediately Harry's curses turned into praise. Praising Louis in ways that would seem ridiculous to him in any other circumstances, too much, too sappy, too fake, but not right now. Louis' whole skin seemed too small for his body and his blood was rushing hotly through his veins. He felt as if he was blooming from the inside, he felt as if flames were licking at his inside, setting him aflame. His whole body was tinder and Harry's voice was the match that would light up up.

 

With a moan that bordered on a painful whine, Harry stopped moving his hips, the muscles in his thighs trembling under Louis' fingers. Combing through Louis' hair one more time, he readjusted his grip, playing for time as he prepared himself, and then slowly pulled Louis up, letting him catch his breath, before he gently pushed him down again.

 

The rhythm with which he used Louis to pleasure himself was slow and sweet and it gave Louis some latitude, gave him enough time and space to use his tongue with intent, dragging zigzag lines up and down Harry's cock. Giving him enough time to lick the pre-come off Harry's crown when Harry pulled him up, and giving him the space to stiffen his tongue to retrace the exact line of Harry's vein.

 

“God, Louis, you, fuck, you,” he moaned and reflexively tightened his grip on Louis' neck. “Fuck, I'm gonna come. I'm gonna,” he started tugging at Louis' hair as if to tell him to come up, underlining his verbal warning, but Louis was having none of it, and he tightened around Harry's cock, hollowing his cheeks and sucked. More and more spit running down his chin and Harry's dick. “God fuck jesus you are a miracle you are you are you – fuck!”

 

With a kick of his legs that jolted Louis and forced Harry's cock deeper into his mouth, Harry came. Louis' name like a prayer on his lips.

 

Happily sucking everything up, Louis took a hold of Harry's slowly flagging cock and licked him clean, slowly crawling up Harry's body when he deemed him clean enough. The salty taste of Harry heavy on his tongue and heady for his senses.

 

“You,” Harry struggled to regain his breathing, “are literally amazing. Fuck.”

 

“I know,” he replied smugly and leaned down for a slow drag of tongues. Letting Harry taste himself on Louis.

 

Slotting himself between Harry's thighs, Louis began to rub down, needing his own release like a starving man needed food. Immediately Harry started to give Louis a flurry of kisses on his nose, his cheek, his lips, the line of his throat. “I can return the favour you know? I want to.”

 

Louis shook his head and blindly searched for Harry's hand that was now slackly lying by the headboard. “Another time. I just need you.”

 

Nodding hurriedly Harry tangled their hands together, dragging his hand, now entangled with Louis' further up against the headboard again, making Louis lose his balance and fall heavily on top of him.

 

“Like this,” Harry breathed and kissed Louis firmly on the mouth, urging him on to move by rolling his still exposed, wet dick against Louis' stomach. Slowly filling up again against Louis' skin.

 

Louis didn't need to be told twice and, tilting Harry's back to open his mouth for a wet slide of tongue, he began rutting against him, coming with a soft sigh against Harry's lips.

 

 

They fell asleep again for a short while after that, their clothes finally lying disregarded on the floor, their feverish and sweat sticky skin glued together where they cuddled under the blankets.

 

Louis woke up before Harry did and he slowly unwound himself from the mess that was Harry's limbs, his whole body entangled with Louis' to the point where he couldn't tell where Harry began and he ended. When he had extracted himself from the soft and sleepy boy next to him, he kissed his cheek one more time, stifling a giggle behind his palm at Harry's disgruntled moan and grabbed his phone, making his way to the bathroom.

 

Reliving himself first, Louis then quickly washed out his mouth and threw some cold water onto his face, racking his wet hands through his hair to bring it into a little more order. Failing at that he grabbed a towel to wrap around his waist before he perched himself on the edge of the bathtub, bringing his phone back to life.

 

It opened to his chats, the last one still opened. The last three speech bubbles glaring at him. Black on green. Inevitable.

 

_Get rid of him and the painting and go underground again. I'm honestly just trying to help you._

 

_Fine, don't answer your phone. I know you're still mad at me, but I can't help you if you're going to be childishly stubborn about this. Get out of this mess, before it comes back to bite you in the ass. For once just do as your told._

 

_Make it disappear again. They are not going to spare his life if they think that he has any part in this._

 

Closing his eyes, Louis double clicked the number at the top of his screen, letting it dial out three times before he finally put his phone to his ear, exhaling shakily as he listened to the insistent beeping.

 

“Finally changed your mind, did you?” A painfully familiar voice answered him after the fifteenth ring.

 

“Hey Zayn.” He hated himself for whispering.

 

The line went silent apart from the heavy breathing crackling between their ears.

 

“Lou,” Zayn finally said and it sounded way less angry than his first words had.

 

“I want you to explain everything from the start,” Louis said and he wasn't even sure if he meant everything, from the moment Zayn left, or if Zayn would understand it as everything that had happened since Louis had tried to get his hands on Waterloo Bridge again. He didn't know what he was hoping for.

 

“I'm not working for them. Not really. I have people in their midst who keep an eye out for me, telling me when to make myself scarce again and they told me that you were lurking around again.”

 

“You have eyes on me?” Louis asked incredulously and the bitter taste of injustice got stronger and stronger until it almost tasted like bile.

  
“I have eyes on the flat.”

 

“You're lying.” He was a liar. A liar, a liar, a liar.

 

“Why would I have eyes on you, Lou?” Zayn sounded bored, he sounded tired and exhausted, but most of all bored, and Louis hated him. So much.

  
“How did you get my number? If you're not spying on me, how did you get my number?”

 

“Those two things are mutually exclusive. Any semi competent hacker could have gotten a hold of your number. Any one.”

 

Louis clenched his fist into the towel on his lap, biting his tongue as to not lash out. He couldn't lose control now, he still needed to get information out of Zayn. And he had never responded well to anger. As skittish as a spider, and just as poisonous, that was what Zayn was. What he had always been. And yet Louis hadn't corrected him on the nickname. Hadn't hung up yet. Somehow he was still family. That realization hurt more than anything else.

 

“So what happened then?” He asked as calmly as he could, picking invisible lint off his towel.

 

“They told me about your little stunt? They left as soon as you were inside to alert me. Why were you going after the painting anyway? Was it some kind of petty revenge for me?”

 

“It may surprise you but the world doesn't revolve around you, Malik.”

 

“No it doesn't, but that painting is mine.” And finally, finally his bored façade started to crumble and annoyance started to seep into his voice.

  
“Is it though? Didn't you sell it along side your soul when you ran to Cowell with your dick between your legs?”

 

“You and I both know that's not how it happened. The painting is mine. Why else would they want it now? You need to stop being so angry with me and start really thinking for yourself! You're going to get yourself killed.”

 

Louis could hear the distinct flick of a lighter being played with and then the heavy inhale and exhale of someone who needed nicotine like a life line. The sounds of a desperate man.

 

“Glad to know that you still care. But they didn't get me in Monaco. And they sure as hell didn't get me in Singapore two years ago. Even though you fucked off. I got out.”

 

And he had. He had almost lost everything in the process. Had lost Zayn after all. But he had gotten out. He had gotten on that plane and he had found a sanctuary in London. They wouldn't get him now.

 

“Okay fine. If you think you're invincible, that's not my problem is it? But the boy you brought into this? How are you going to live with yourself if you lose him just because you are too blind to see that you are out of your depth, hm? Because you are. This is way out of your league.”

 

“Help me then. Stop insulting me and help me, if that's really what you want.”

 

“I already told you. Run away. You still have time now, I can get you a -”

 

“No,” Louis vehemently shook his head, even though he was well aware that Zayn couldn't see him. “I won't run away. I'm tired of always running. And Harry can't run away. He has a life here.”

 

The 'and I won't leave him' were left unspoken but they both heard it. Loud and clear.

  
“Where is the painting now?” Zayn asked and Louis closed his eyes. Dreaming himself somewhere else.

 

“I didn't take it,” he mumbled and then cringed through the alarmingly loud string of curses from Zayn's side.

 

“What the fuck, Louis? It's still in there?! Do you know at what risk you have put everyone?”

 

With a hissed explicit curse Louis stood up and walked towards the sink, looking up into the mirror cabinet and feeling the urge to punch his weary image. Again and again.

 

“No one got hurt yet, right? They still think I hid it some place new?” He opened the cabinet and started rummaging around for some painkillers as he felt the first tell tale signs of a headache coming on. The pounding in his temples just a dull reminder for now that he needed a break.

 

“Yes.” Zayn flicked his cigarette to the ground and stomped on it. “At least I think so. They should have realized by now. I don't know what they are planning. My sources don't have that much power, they can only give me the basics. If they got found out -” He didn't have to finish that sentence. The message was loud and clear. Simon Cowell never left any one alive.

 

“So back to how you were going to help me?” Louis asked and shook two pills out of the orange plastic bottle he had found behind a stash of spare toothbrushes and shaving cream. Swallowing them dry he listened to Zayn lay down a plan, listened to him ramble down contact names and underground hide outs. Listened to him devise three separate plans, Plan B, C and D. Listened to his voice and tried to remember when it hadn't felt familiar. Tried to remember the last words Zayn had said to him before he had left. Tried to remember if he had tried to reach out to Zayn. Had he?

 

There was a soft knock on the bathroom door making Louis startle, the bottle of pills he had still been playing with, falling out of his hand, the pills jumping over the porcelain and down the drain as the cap shattered on impact.

 

“Hey, Lou? Are you okay in there?” Harry's soft voice filtered through and without thinking Louis opened the door, the phone still pressed to his ear, Zayn's voice still filtering through.

 

Harry hadn't bothered to put on any clothes, now standing in front of Louis in all of his naked glory. Pinkish and red spots littering his skin like a splatter of rose tattoos where Louis had claimed his body with his teeth. There were pillow creases on his left cheek, his hair a mess and frizzy where he had sweated during sex, the curls almost lacking all the curls, the sleep tussled look making him seem softer than even the warm orange glow of the sun behind him.

 

“Are you okay?” He mouthed again, pointing at the phone in Louis' hand, his brows furrowing in worry as Louis still remained silent. His mind split between devouring Harry, trying to catalogue every mark on his skin, trying to memorize this exact moment, and listening to Zayn. Because this was Harry at his most vulnerable and he was still only thinking about Louis. This was Harry, naked without the intent of sex, naked just because, naked because he felt safe enough around Louis, naked because there hadn't been a reason to hide anything any more. This was the Harry that Louis wanted to pay attention to. This would be the Harry that would break his heart.

 

And suddenly Zayn stopped talking. And Louis couldn't respond.

 

“He's with you, isn't he?”

 

Louis nodded, stumped into muteness.

 

“Just… call me if anything goes wrong. Take care Louis.” Somehow those three words sounded a lot like 'I love you' in Louis' head but that was a lie. It was. Louis wasn't loved. Especially not by Zayn Malik.

 

“Bye, Zayn,” he whispered and hung up, looking up at Harry's surprised face, the worry on his face increasing.

 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Harry asked quietly and Louis shook his head. Nodded. And shook his head again.

 

Harry just smiled softly and beckoned Louis forwards, wrapping him up into his arms with a warm and secret smile on his lips.

 

Louis felt him kiss the top of his head and, suddenly filled with an inexplicable warmth, he wrapped his arms around Harry's bare waist and hugged him back tightly. Turning his head to press a lingering kiss to his sternum.

 

“I'm going to make you breakfast. You can go shower and get yourself ready and then we can talk about this. Sound good?”

 

Nodding dumbly Louis let himself be swayed from side to side, letting Harry calm down his racing heart, letting Harry calm him down from the brink of a panic attack he hadn't even been aware of standing on.

 

He wouldn't run from this boy.

 

 

“Am I ever going to meet your mystery man?” Liam asked and dropped his laundry basket at Harry's feet. Kneeling down next to it he looked up at Harry on the couch and cocked one eyebrow. “I mean you've been pretty serious for a while now haven't you?”

 

“Why do you always do laundry when I'm at your place?” Harry asked in return and pulled his feet onto the couch to give Liam more room to fold his shirts, the coffee in the mug he had cradled between his hands sloshing around precariously with the movement.

 

“Because you wear ironed shirts and it spikes my guilty conscience and also it relaxes me. Now stop changing the subject and spill. When can I meet him? You've never kept a boyfriend from me for this long.”

 

Sighing Harry blew over his coffee watching the small brown ripples rise and fall. “It's complicated?” He wasn't sure if his answer sounded so much like a question. Was it because it truly was or was he just bad at lying to Liam? Was it both?

 

“Oh come on, Harry. Please? Please let me meet him. I promise I won't be weird?”

 

Looking up Harry found his childhood friend holding up two different socks trying to compare them in length, and then deciding that they came close enough to a matching set to put them together. One was yellow, the other one green.

 

“I could ask him if he wants to come over?”

 

“That's a brilliant plan!” Liam beamed and rummaged through his basket for another pair of socks. “I could cook something! You like my cooking right?”

 

Laughing Harry contorted his body to get his phone out of the back pocket of his skinny jeans. “I do like your cooking yes.”

 

“Yes!” His friend squealed and fist bumped the air.

 

Maybe this was a good thing, Harry reasoned as he started typing out a message to Louis with one hand, the other one still cradling his mug. Maybe this would bring a bit more normalcy into whatever it was they had gotten themselves into.

 

With the funny mixture of butterflies and bulldozers in his tummy, Harry thought back to morning where he had had woken up next to his beautiful boy, sunlight streaming over his slack face and his sleep warm body. A blush spreading across his cheeks as his brain immediately pushed images of Louis between his legs, of Louis on top of him, of Louis naked before his inner eye. Biting down on his cheek he forced those images back, remembering with unavoidable trepidation and even more fondness how Louis had opened up to him. Remembered with vivid clarity the truths that had found their way into the space between them, the secrets that had been shared. The trust that had been given so freely, sealed with soft kisses to overheating skin, kisses that wouldn't lead to anything, kisses that were just for their own sake. Just that, and still so much.

 

Louis replied not more than five minutes later.

 

**Course if it's okay for your friend? I could be there in 30**

 

_You're forgetting Liam is the one that asked :) see you in a bit, Liam's making dinner, I hope you're hungry_

 

_**starving** _

  
“Louis says he can be here in 30 minutes.” Harry said with a huge smile on his face, tugging his phone between the cushion to take another sip of his coffee.

 

Smiling as if his biggest wish had just come true (which Harry knew couldn't be true because Liam's biggest wish was to be able to climb into the washing machine and go around and around and around) Liam scrambled up and clapped his hands together excitedly.

 

“Is he a vegetarian? Because I found this amazing recipe with eggplant -”

 

“No he isn't,” Harry yelled after him, as he watched Liam prance off to his kitchen, blabbering on about whatever recipe he had found. “And eggplant? Since when do you like eggplant?”

 

“Everyone likes eggplant, Harry.” Liam proclaimed from the kitchen and when Harry finally caught up to him he just raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “Okay fine, I hate eggplant, but it's sophisticated, right?”

 

“Just do whatever you want, Lee. Louis isn't exactly the Queen.” He snorted at the ludicrous comparison. The Queen would probably rather see Louis' head roll than be compared to a thief like him.

 

Watching Liam cook was like something else. He moved around as if a bee was always tailing him, his movements jittery and excited as if he was doing everything for the first time. He was wasting away energy by moving to and fro, opening cabinets that he had already checked, ducking under their doors instead of closing them, and washing everything separately instead of doing it all at once. But Harry wasn't worried, he hadn't lied when he had said that he liked his food, and no matter how he got there, the end result was always perfect. Right down to the presentation where Liam would go all out. Sometimes even going as far as drawing silly little motives on the edge of the plate with his balsamic vinegar.

 

While the waited for Louis, they talked about whatever crossed their minds, their friendship so long withstanding that it didn't need any prodding.

 

“You talk about him an awful lot you know?” Liam asked after a while, holding a spoon to Harry's mouth, proffering him the first taste. Smacking his lips dramatically Harry gave him a thumbs up before furrowing his brows.

 

“Who?”

 

“Louis? You've mentioned him at least five times in the past ten minutes.”

 

“I have not!” Harry exclaimed and felt his face grow hotter as he realised that Liam was right. “I didn't mention him that often, did I?” He added sheepishly, wiping away the remnants of sauce of his lips.

 

“Don't worry, I think it's cute. I'm happy for you, man.”

 

The shrill sound of the door bell saved Harry from having to answer. Ruffling Harry's hair, Liam turned back to the counter to his food, silently beckoning for Harry to open the door.

 

Holding the buzzer of the intercom, Harry leaned towards the microphone.

 

“Fourth floor, second door to the left,” he said and opened the door.

 

Louis ran up the stairs, completely oblivious to the elevator right next to him, but when Harry got a handful of a slightly out of breath beautiful boy smelling like night time and cold wind, he didn't think it necessary to point that out. Hugging Louis back just as tightly, he tugged him inside, silently closing the door behind them.

 

“Thank you for making it, I know we haven't exactly discussed meeting friends and such, so this was a bit sudden, and -” Louis' finger on his lips shushed him in an instant.

 

“Harry we are about to bring down one of the biggest crime mob of London. If that didn't tell you that I'm kinda committed to you a lot, then I don't know what is going to stick.”

 

The smile that was about to split Harry's face into two made Louis' finger glide between his lips and Harry couldn't resist the temptation of biting the soft pad before giving it a lingering kiss.

 

Louis was staring up at him with crescent shaped eyes, the smile on his face just as breathtaking as Harry remembered and yet he was still knocked off his feet by the pure radiance of this, of _his_ boy.

 

“We're about to bring down the biggest crime mob of London,” echoing Louis' words didn't seem to make them any more real, but that was what it was.

 

“Is that what you got from that?” Louis laughed and started peeling out of his jacket, pulling himself to his tippy-toes to hang it over the coat rack.

  
“And you are crazily committed to me.” Harry beamed and tugged Louis against his front again, with a sure hand on the other man's waist, leaning down to kiss him softly on the lips. “Hi.”

 

“If you two love birds are ready, dinner is served,” Liam's voice rang through the flat, it's owner cackling loudly at Harry's answering groan.

 

“Stop hogging that man and let me meet that mysterious boyfriend of yours.” Coming into the foyer to see what was taking them so long, Liam dragged his eyes from the dish towel he used to dry his hands with to the pair standing in front of his door.

 

His face broke into a wide grin when he took in the very obvious lack of personal space between them. “Hi, I'm Liam!” Cheerfully he stalked towards them, thrusting his hand out towards Louis as if Harry wasn't still blocking him with his entire body.

 

Giggling Louis stepped around Harry and grabbed Liam's hand, shaking it forcefully. “Nice to meet you, I'm Louis.”

 

Not letting go of Louis' hand, Liam began to walk back to the kitchen. “So Harry never did tell me how you guys met?”

 

“Funny story actually, I was hanging from his window sill because I was trying to break into his flat and he saved me.”

 

“Why were you hanging from his – oooh wait is this some kind of,” he dropped his voice conspiratorially, “ _gay_ slang?”

 

Louis loud and rambunctious laughter made Harry follow the pair of them back into the living room, a warm smile tugging at his lips, something akin to lava spreading through his veins.

 

Dinner was a quiet and nice affair.

 

Louis had Liam wrapped around his little finger in less than ten minutes and if Harry didn't know it any better he would say that Liam was a little bit in love with the loud boy in front of him, who kept mocking everything he said. Not bothered in the slightest that Liam's entire attention was on Louis, Harry ate his food in silence, careful not to disturb whatever artwork Liam had meant to create with the garnish. The colourful bouquet of paprika distracting in a way that only something that didn't quite fit could be. But Harry loved it all the same.

 

Finishing his dinner first, Harry made a grab for his water glass, while also sliding his hand up Louis' thigh, wanting to feel his warmth, the reassurance he radiated with such ease. Louis didn't flinch at the sudden contact, nor did he let it interrupt his speech, he just switch the hand that was holding his fork, and dropped his now free hand on top of Harry's, squeezing gently.

 

The talk they had had after the phone call with Zayn had changed something between them. If before they had already felt as if they were drawn to each other like two iron nails were to a massive magnet, then their gravity had increased a tenfold after that conversation.

 

Now, with everything out in the open, the only reason for doubt would have been the other one's feelings, but even those were obliterated the moment they looked at each other over the broken shards of Louis' secrets and his past. They were blown to the wind when Harry had grabbed Louis' hand, asking him if he wanted to stay until Harry had to leave for work. Asking him without words to trust him that he could handle whatever Louis could still throw at him. Telling him that he still wasn't going to leave, that he still wasn't scared, or disgusted by whatever Louis had to give.

 

It was sealed in the way that Louis had opened up to Harry, making him realise with his unwavering eye contact, his steady hands and the softest touch, that Harry was one of the privileged few that got to see these parts of him. Letting him know that Louis was letting himself fall.

 

All those truths had turned from untouchable ghosts in Louis' past to glue that had covered their skin and made them stick together.

 

Harry couldn't be sure if this was already love. Didn't want to think about it too much, worried that he would freak out, because society deemed it too fast, because rules said that a few months were nothing. That you couldn't tell after only such a short amount of time.

 

But even if he didn't know for sure yet, he knew that it was one of the greatest things he had ever had in his life, and if that wasn't what love came down to, then society could go screw itself.

 

They hadn't talked about being boyfriends yet, they hadn't even broached the subject of monogamy yet, and yet, just as Louis had said, they had plans to bring down an empire together.

 

They were kings in their own way.

 

It had taken them another day or two to actually finalise their plan. Days that Harry had spent exclusively at Louis' place, since the knowledge that their was a target painted onto his doorstep didn't actually make his home seem all that inviting.

 

Completely disregarding some of the advise Zayn had given Louis, they stayed awake for hours and hours after Harry came home from work, trying to find a plan that would get the least amount of people hurt, since collateral damage was not something Zayn had seemed all too worried about.

 

In the end it the answer had been right in front of them.

 

“ _Just asking one more time, we really can't just go to the police?” They were lying side by side on Louis' bed, their legs lazily entwined as they faced each other._

 

_Louis sighed wearily, but not because of Harry's question, more so because the answer bothered him just as much as Harry. The reality of it still too frightening to actually say it out loud._

 

“ _No, like I said, they most likely have their people in the work force. It'd be like throwing a vernissage for lost paintings in your flat. People would notice.”_

 

“ _It would have been too easy that way, anyway.” Harry sighed and lifted his hand to push back a strand of hair from Louis' forehead. His eyes crinkling at the corner as Louis' nose scrunched up at the sudden touch._

 

“ _Please shut me up, gag me or something, if I completely overstep, but,” Harry didn't miss the way Louis' pupils blew wide at the mention of a gag, but he needed to bury that idea deep deep down, because if he thought about Louis gagging him, about Louis liking to leave bruises behind, of him using duct tape instead of hand cuffs, if he even for a second entertained the thought of Louis taking control like that, then he would surely faint. Their sex was already so close to bringing Harry into a sensory overload, his skin tingling for minutes, for long dragged out minutes wherever Louis touched him, that he couldn't imagine surviving being at Louis' mercy like that._

 

_He wasn't sure if his love for being submissive in bed made him a part of a community, his actual experience with role play in bed so limited that he didn't dare make a real assumption about it. And all literature about it made it seem like something too fantastic to actual work, because how would you be able to find someone so compatible for you, that you could let go and actually drift?_

 

_No matter, what it was for Harry, he tried not to think too much about it, tried not to make it a big deal. But Louis was making that increasingly difficult._

 

_And maybe it had something to do with Harry's overly creative mind that seemed to hear the word thief and immediately connected the thought of criminality with sensual sex. With wild sex, just this close to being on the precipice of dangerous, just that much closer to making Harry lose his mind. Maybe it was a mixture of Harry's wildest teenage fantasies of pirates and cops and whatever else a mind still struggling to connect childhood with the hormones of an adult could conjure up. Or perhaps it was just Louis setting him on fire with his constant innuendos, the knowledge that he had duct tape and used it, the touch of his soft but commanding hands, the feeling of his lips staking claim even with the barest touch._

 

_Harry honestly didn't know any more, but the way that Louis was watching him with black mirrors for eyes, arousal reflecting back on Harry, it did nothing to clench the hunger in his stomach._

 

“ _But don't you have any, I don't know, cool thief connections? Some kind of criminal network for the good guys?”_

 

“ _I still worry about the fact that you take to this so easily. Are you sure you didn't fall on your head as a child? Repeatedly?” Louis' grin was hollow, his mockery still fond, but lacking the enthusiasm that usually came from taking the piss out of Harry._

 

“ _Hey, hey, Lou. I'm sorry, if I crossed a line. I don't know how this works. You have to tell me if I make this too weird. Because this is your life, not some kind of fairytale and -”_

 

_Louis laughed dryly (ugly) interrupting Harry's apology. “Yeah it's no fairytale,” he mumbled and pulled Harry's hand away from his face, kissing the back of it, before turning it over to trace the lines in his palm. Heart, life, soul. Death._

 

“ _I don't mind you overstepping, I'm just scared that you are going to be disappointed by my answers. There is of course some kind of network. I don't quite understand how it works myself, but it's not like I have the best connections. I literally hung from you window sill. That about tells you about my prowess and my status.”_

 

“ _You also quite literally have one of the biggest crime lords on your heels, so I think that kind of evens it out, don't you agree?” Harry said with a sad smile on his lips, as he lifted their joined hands to the back of Louis' neck, pulling him more closely towards him._

 

“ _I could ask someone...” Louis finally receded and closed his eyes, as if this next secret would hurt them more than any before that. “Nick has quite good connections,” he mumbled into the small space between them and Harry could stare at him with an open mouth. Blinking stupidly as if that was the most surreal thing Louis had ever said._

 

“ _Nick,” he prodded and shook his head to clear his thoughts. “My Nick,” he repeated it again. “Our Nick. Nick Grimshaw. That Nick.”_

 

_Louis nodded sheepishly, his eyes still closed as if he were hoping to escape Harry's judgement that way. Judgement Harry wasn't even sure he wanted to hold over Louis. Louis' hold on Harry's hand around his neck was unwaveringly tight._

 

_After a long and heavy silence, Harry untangled his hand from Louis', flinching back when he saw Louis' defeated look, and used his free hand to tangle it in Louis' hair, tugging softly at the roots, asking Louis to look at him again._

_  
“What makes you think that this revelation is going to be my breaking point?” He asked softly. Talking over the bubbling heat of something else stirring in his gut._

 

“ _Because I lied to you,” Louis whispered, his eyes now firmly trained on the bridge of Harry's nose. The closest to eye contact they were probably going to get that night. “The other things were just truths you hadn't won yet, but you asked me. You asked me, and I said.”_

 

“ _You said that it was not your story to tell. And I believed what I wanted to believe. I could have asked Nick weeks ago to confirm it. I could have asked him years ago. He is also my friend.”_

 

_And really. Harry should have trusted his gut more. Nick, who rarely showed up to worked, but lived in the richest part of London and only wore extravagant clothes and rings, which of course Harry had just explained away with his dad being rich. Nick who knew more about the crime scenes in London than even the 11pm news did, where all kinds of horrors of the city lived were “revealed”. Again something Harry had glossed over with jokes about Nick being a bit too much into crime shows. A mockery that had always gone both ways. Now Harry realised that Nick had probably almost laughed himself silly, knowing that he was just right about Harry. That he knew more than Harry ever could._

 

_Harry should have just asked. After meeting Louis, he should have just done an all around check up on all of his friends. Tomorrow Liam would probably reveal himself to be a secret agent for the CIA, or maybe even a superhero._

 

“ _He isn't my friend.” Louis said into the quietness between them and Harry's eyebrows rose in serious confusion._

 

“ _Why do you say that? I'm pretty sure Nick considers you a friend.”_

 

“ _I don't have any friends.”_

 

_Harry took that with calm patience. It wasn't his to decide for Louis how to feel about the people in his life. It wasn't his to question Louis' relationships. All he knew for sure was that Nick surely counted Louis as a friend. Even if Louis apparently didn't saw Nick as his._

 

“ _Do you still want to ask him for help?”_

 

_Louis nodded and somehow Harry heard the unspoken 'for you' more clearly than he would have liked._

 

_Calling Nick and inviting him over was easy. Convincing him to stop laughing was another matter altogether._

 

“ _Please admit it I'm the best matchmaker in the whole entire world.”_

 

“ _Nick, please,” Louis said with bone deep exasperation and turned to Harry as if to say, 'I told you so'._

 

“ _Oh god, Harry,” he was wheezing with the effort to get his breathing back under control. “I knew this would happen but seeing you two like this,” he wiped away a tear from the corner of his eye. “You always wanted to be a pirate did you not? Look at you. Working side by side with two criminals.” He howled with laughter._

_  
“I really don't know why you think this is so funny,” Harry asked but even he couldn't keep the smile out of his voice. “You knew this was going to happen as soon as you set us up.”_

 

“ _It's always nice to be proven right though, isn't it, Harold?” Sniffling he tried to calm himself down again, before turning his full attention towards them. “So what kind of trouble have you gotten yourselves into so fast?”_

 

_Louis took a deep breath and explained everything from the beginning again, his voice just as solemn and calm as it had been the first time he had opened up to Harry, his eyes focused on Nick like a snake's. Nick's expression sobered up quickly, his mouth changing from a teasing smirk to a grim and worried line._

 

“ _Why have you never told me this before?” He asked and Harry knew he had been right. Nick did see Louis as his friend._

 

“ _Why should I have?” Louis answered and shrugged his shoulders, miming a serenity Harry knew he wasn't feeling._

 

“ _Because you're my friend? And I could have helped you ages ago? I thought Zayn leaving was just because of a fight. Because of something silly. I always knew you too had an emotional relationship so I thought it was just a falling out, you know, otherwise I would have done something. Lou, I-”_

 

“ _We aren't friends.” Louis said. And it sounded like a question. Like his whole world view just came tumbling down around him._

 

“ _Of course we are. I know you don't think so. I know you think I'm pretentious and stupid and sure, the fact that our relationship began with lazy hate sex, surely didn't help the entire ordeal, but of course we are.”_

 

“ _You slept together?” Harry shrieked, while Louis just hollowly repeated: “We're friends.”_

 

_Nick came forward to pull Louis into his arms, hugging him fiercely like only family could, hugging him as if he was making up for the past five, ten years that he hadn't gotten to do that._

 

_Over Louis' shoulder, he mouthed something at Harry that looked suspiciously like: “He's all yours now”, and Harry understood that some things were better left alone._

 

_In the end, Harry wasn't even shocked any more when Nick starting hauling in reinforcements as if this was just another day at work for him. As if he was ordering new seats for the planetarium and a new telescope, instead of mobilizing entire gangs to cover up another person's mess. Something that they had no responsibility for._

_  
“Nick is kind of a big deal, isn't he.” Harry mumbled quietly to Louis, as the stood side by side at the kitchen counter, watching Nick yell at someone over the phone._

_  
“He's kind of a douche bag with an ego as big as Jupiter, but sure. Yeah. You could say that.” Louis' mockery was laced with so much fondness that Harry felt the desperate need to kiss him senseless. To taste even a little bit of the love this boy was radiating off._

 

_With a heavy, put upon sigh, Nick ended the call and turned towards them. “Lou, what about Niall. Do you think he could get into Harry's flat and get the painting out without looking suspicious?”_

 

“ _Who's Niall?” Harry mouthed at Nick, but he didn't get a direct reply._

 

“ _Niall can't do anything without looking suspicious. He's a walking talking traffic light. Everyone notices him.”_

 

“ _He was under your tutelage though. So he must have learned something, right?”_

 

“ _Is that a compliment, Grimshaw?”_

 

“ _What the fuck else would it be? Why did you think I assigned him to you.”_

 

“ _Wow okay, first off, you didn't assign anyone to me because you are not my boss. Secondly, you – wait what?”_

 

_And suddenly Niall got roped into their mission and suddenly everything fell into order and it didn't seem so impossible any more._

 

 

“Has Harry told you about his extensive country music yet? Because he pretends he doesn't listen to it, but I know where he is hiding all the records,” Liam said and pointed his fork at Louis to underline his point.

 

Louis turned his head towards Harry, squeezing his hand on his thigh and smiled devilishly.

 

“He hasn't actually. Which I think is a shame. I love country music.”

 

“You really really don't,” Harry laughed, pointing a threatening finger in Liam's direction. “And you need to keep your mouth shut about things that do not concern you.”

 

“But Louis' well being does concern me. And your obsession with bad music is harming him”

 

Before Harry could rip into him over the joyous sound of Louis' laughter, Louis' phone rang, disrupting whatever teasing argument they could have gotten into.

 

Glancing quickly into Harry's direction, Louis pulled his phone out, showing Harry the screen.

  
It was Niall's name that flashed over the blue screen.

 

“I better get that. Excuse me, Liam.” Throwing his napkin on the table, Louis slowly stood up, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder to reassure him, gently forcing him back onto his chair. “I'll be right back, Harry.”

 

With a quick backwards glance, Louis left the room and leaned against the arm of the couch in the living room, before he accepted the call.

 

“Please tell me you have good news,” he said without any further preamble.

 

“Depends on your definition of good news, boss man.”

 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Louis tried not to lose his temper. The past few days were weighing heavily on him, but it wasn't Niall's fault. Niall who so willingly and agreed to help them, saying that after everything that Louis had done for him, this was the least he could do. Louis still hadn't figured out what exactly Niall thought he owed him, but maybe it was time to stop questioning the people around him that had made it their life's mission to be his friend. Maybe he should just let them be exactly that.

 

“Just tell me.”

 

“Well I got the painting and I'm pretty sure they didn't see me. I don't even think that they had anyone outside of the flat tonight, but,” his voice was crackling through the line as if he were moving very fast, the connection trying very hard to stay alive as it searched for the closest telephone pole.

 

“But?” Louis asked, well aware of the fact that his tone had gone an octave up. He sounded shrill.

 

“But I listened to the police radio on my way here and someone has been planning a pretty big break-in in Whitechapel. And I mean, big. Almost two thirds of the night shift is disengaging.”

 

“And?” Louis was too sleep deprived, too high strung to understand any of the gibberish Niall was sprouting at the moment.

 

“They didn't steal anything.” Niall said imperiously, as if that was supposed to mean something.

 

“Is the report already out then?”

 

“No, dammit, Louis think. Almost the entire work force is out there, all their attention is on that part of the town. Someone tipped them off.”

 

And then the coin dropped.

 

“They are making them blind.”

 

“Exactly. Which floor are you on?”

 

“Excuse me?” Louis asked flabbergasted and out of pure instinct he went to the window and ripped the curtain aside. “Where are you? How did you know where I was?”

 

“Honestly, you wound me. What floor?”

 

“Fourth. What are we supposed to do here?”

 

“Find a way out of this.” And then he hung up.

 

Staring at his phone in disbelief, Louis stayed frozen in front of the window for another long minute, before he realised that he had to go back to Harry. Harry needed to know. Harry needed to be safe. Harry…. Liam. How were they supposed to explain this to Liam?

 

“Lou?” Harry's soft voice rang through the flat and Louis jerked back from the window, turning around as if he had been caught doing something naughty. Standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and his hip leaning casually against the frame, Harry caught Louis' stare. “Did something happen?”

 

“Niall's coming,” was all Louis could force out, suddenly folding in on himself as if his strings had been cut. “I'm sorry, I don't know how we're supposed to explain this to Liam, but, Harry, fuck.”

 

“Louis, it's okay. Liam really isn't the person you should be worried about now?” With long and confident strides Harry crossed the room to Louis and took the phone out of his hands, pocketing it himself.

 

“So what Plan is this now? Plan D?”

 

“More like Plan Fuck.”

 

“Louis, focus. If you break down, I'm going to lose it, too. I'm not as strong as I look. I'm going to lose it if you don't focus.” Louis flinched when he felt Harry's cold fingers on his face, but relaxed as soon as his brain realised that it wasn't a threat. With a steady grip Harry tilted his face up and leaned down to kiss him, the simple touch enough to suffocate most of Louis' anxiety.

 

“We have to talk to Niall first. Then I can tell you which Plan we're on.”

 

“See? It's all going to be okay. We had Nick draw us an entire flip chart of emergency plans. We are all good to go.”

 

Before Louis could react the doorbell rang and they heard Liam shuffling around, on his way to open the door.

 

“Oh, hello?” They heard his startled voice ring through the living room. “Do I know you?”

 

“Oi, it smells delicious, mate. Did you cook?” Niall's voice was warm and inviting and he probably wouldn't even have to mention his relation to Louis and Harry for Liam to invite him in. He sounded friendlier and more welcoming than every Christmas elf Louis had ever dreamed off.

 

“I did, yeah.” There was a long silence. “I'm sorry who are you?”

 

“A friend of Louis'. Can I come in? Thanks mate.”

 

Something told Louis that Liam had not let Niall in by choice. But suddenly a flash of blonde hair and black clothes and a huge plastic wrapped rectangle stumbled into the living room.

 

“Did you just bring the painting with you?” Harry asked and Louis wondered the same. And this was the person they were trusting to keep them safe.

 

“Of course? Where else should I have put it? My living room? Definitely not. I'm keeping an eye on this beauty.”

 

“Lou?” Liam's face broke Louis' heart as he trod in after Niall. Louis might have only known Liam for a few hours, but he had felt accepted under Liam's unwavering stare, had felt funnier than he knew he was every time Liam had almost choked on his food when Louis had made a joke, had felt oddly protective of Liam the moment he had started talking about his dog, that was currently with his ex-girlfriend, because they had decided to have shared custody over Watson. Shared custody. Over a dog. Liam could probably have become a very good friend and now Louis had brought all his problems onto his doorstep, quite literally. And it hurt to see him so lost. It simply hurt. It wasn't even guilt that made Louis' heart beat an uneven beat against his ribcage. It was sorrow about another life he would taint.

 

As if Harry could feel the direction his thoughts were taking, he put a reassuring arm around Louis' shoulders and pulled him into his side.

 

“Liam, this is going to sound really really crazy, but I need you to trust us. Can you do that?”

 

“Harry, what? Who is this person?” Niall seemed oblivious to the tension in the room and just waved when he realised that Liam was pointing accusingly at him. Or maybe, Louis thought, maybe Niall was doing this on purpose. Being the calm before the storm.

 

“That's Niall. And he's a friend. And -”

 

“And your friends are about yay high stuck in shit.” Niall pointed at something just a few centimetres above his head and clucked his tongue. “And we're getting them out of it.”

 

“We are?” Liam asked and his eyes grew as big as saucers. Niall nodded and patted Liam on the shoulder. His face one of understanding.

 

“Just let it all out.”

 

“Niall, please, concentrate, what happened.” As much as Louis felt sorry for Liam, Niall wouldn't just barge in like this if it wasn't important. And if he thought that Cowell's little group of assholes was planning a police black out then they were in deep shit. Because that meant that they wanted the city to look away from something. If everyone looked one direction. Then you could do whatever you wanted behind their backs. No one would notice. No one would notice if they suddenly disappeared.

 

“Yes, right, right!” He clapped his hands loudly, shaking everyone out of their thoughts. “So just to summarize. Our plan was for me to get my hands on the painting tonight, to store it away without them noticing and then to lure them to the now empty flat tomorrow with real police back up, provided by Nick, right?” They all knew that real police back up only implied that their loyalties lay with them. Everyone except for Liam who just scrunched his face up even more in confusion. For now Louis ignored him, too focused on what Niall had to say.

 

“And I already told you that they couldn't have seen me tonight, but apparently they either have better cameras than I do, which by the way is impossible, or they have been planning this simultaneously the entire time and we just happen to have shit luck.”

 

“It's probably the latter.” Louis quipped and rubbed his forehead. He should have taken something against a headache before he left. Just in case. Was that how those pills worked? He should look into that.

 

“That's what I said. Anyway. They are currently, as far as I can tell, working towards a police black out and Nick doesn't have that many people in the force that we could work around that. Everyone's eyes and ears are in Whitechapel and we can do jack shit about that.”

 

“I'm still waiting for you to bring me the good news.”

 

“The good news is, I think I might have a new plan that could get us out of this mess.”

 

“Tell us,” Harry demanded and Louis could feel the tension in every muscle of Harry, his body almost vibrating with tension next to him. _'I'm not that strong'._

 

“Can I call it Plan N because I came up with it?” Niall asked and waved his arms around in a grand gesture as if he was already waiting for a round of applause.

 

“First tell us the plan, and then we can talk about naming your lovely brain child.”

 

“Okay, okay, fine.” The blonde narrowed his eyes playfully at Louis and winked. “Always so serious.”

 

“Niall, lives are literally at stake here.”

 

Liam's choked off squeal in the background didn't go unnoticed, but Louis had to ignore it. He had to, to keep focused. With a small kiss to his temple, Harry did slide his arm off Louis' shoulder and slowly walked towards Liam, taking a stand next to him, his presence alone apparently enough to calm Liam down a little bit.

 

“My plan is a bit riskier than Nick's plans, but we all know that Nick never actually moves so much as a finger on his jobs, so that wasn't surprising. You on the other hand,” Niall trailed off.

 

“What are you saying?”

 

“What would you say, Louis if I would ask you to stage a break-in at the MoMA?”

 

“I would tell you that you are insane and that without any planning it is also near impossible.”

 

“Nick told me though that you never actually plan anything and that if you do you mostly do something else anyway, so I think, it's actually very possible. I've seen you in action. I know you could do it.”

 

“Nick needs to stop spreading lies about me, first of all. I do plan stuff! I'm great at plans.”

 

“You literally still don't know what that police car was doing outside The Gherkin.”

 

“And? Nothing went wrong, did it?” Louis asked incredulously.

 

“I knew you had something to do with the attempted break in at Mary Axe.” Harry exclaimed happily and when Louis spared him a quick glance he was almost clapping in excitement. His cheeks a lovely pink that just screamed to be kissed. But there wasn't time was there?

 

“What good would it even do, if I broke into the MoMA?” Louis asked exasperatedly and turned his full focus back on Niall. “Like you said, everyone is looking at whatever is going down in Whitechapel right now. Worst case is that I set off an alarm and Cowell's people at the police are going to have the honour to arrest me.”

 

“No hear me out. You are going to get in, hang up this beautiful painting here and then get out again.”

 

“What?” Harry and Louis yelled at the same time, because that was idiotic. That was an idiot plan.

 

“And what then? They find the painting tomorrow in their museum and just thank their phantom art benefactor and that's it? That doesn't help us get rid of Cowell!” Harry said and Louis was very glad that he seemed to be the voice of reason tonight, because Louis could only stare at Niall in horror. That was truly the dumbest idea he had ever heard.

 

“It doesn't deal with them tonight. That's true. But it makes sure that the painting is safe and that they can't get their disgusting hands on it. And tomorrow all we have to do is get their attention and get the message across that the painting isn't our hands any more and BAM, done.”

 

“But aren't they actually a tiny bit pissed at Louis in general? Won't they come after him, no matter where the painting is?”

 

“That's a good point, Harry, but honestly? I can't plan that far ahead if I don't know exactly what they are doing tonight. And we can only know that outcome tomorrow. By which time the time frame in which we could have gotten the picture to safety will have closed again. So… my plan is the best. And you all should agree with me.”

 

“I don't know,” Louis said and turned around. He couldn't bear looking at anyone, especially Harry, while he was contemplating breaking into one of the most famous museums in London. While planning a break-in in general. It was one thing, knowing that Harry knew and was okay with it, it was another thing entirely though to actively have Harry by his side when he was about to break the law. There was a difference and Harry would realise that soon as well.

 

“What did Nick say to that?” He finally asked, still not turning around, his gaze fixed onto the cars on the street below, rushing past like little missiles. Red and white lights streaking across the black ground.

 

“He more or less agreed?” Niall said and Louis could see him shrug in the reflection of the window.

 

“More or less?”

 

“You know how Nick gets. He does think you could do it though.”

 

“He doesn't. But thanks for the confidence boost, Niall.”

 

And suddenly Louis was sure. Something deep down inside of him had flipped a switch and suddenly he was not only sure that he could pull it off, but he shared Niall's opinion. This was probably their only chance.

 

The sudden adrenaline that spiked through his system was as thrilling as it was terrifying and Louis couldn't wait to get into his gear again.

 

“Do you have my gear?” He asked Niall and finally turned around, still trying to avoid Harry's gaze, because he wasn't ready yet to face whatever Harry had written across his face. That boy was always so expressive it drove Louis nuts. Being around Harry drove him nuts. It was like a constant stream of adrenaline, always pumping through his bloodstream whenever he looked at Harry, his heart beating a wild, wild rhythm that seemed more than unhealthy on the long run, and maybe that was why he was so afraid to let go. Because he knew first hand how terribly the crash was after an adrenaline high, and Harry couldn't be his drug forever. Could he?

 

“Do I have your gear? What do you take me for? An idiot?” Niall asked incredulously and started rummaging around in the plastic bag in which he had also stored the painting, pulling out soft black pants that Louis knew allowed a lot of freedom but also had an abundance of pockets of all sizes running up and down the thighs, as well as a black turtle-neck sweatshirt, leather gloves and a black beanie, that he could pull over his face in emergencies or when he encountered incredibly stubborn cameras that he couldn't work around. The material of the beanie was so worn out that he could still see fine through it, it just kept people from recognizing him.

 

Catching each item that Niall threw at him, Louis raised an eyebrow and asked for his tools. Worried that Niall might have forgotten what to get him, because he did have a few special requests that for other robbers might seem silly.

 

But Niall just waved him off and put everything onto the table. The lock picks, the small flash light, one roll of duct tape, a lighter and other knick knack that Louis could easily fit into the pockets of his pants.

 

“Is that… is that duct tape?” Harry piped up suddenly, his voice oddly rough. Coughing once he repeated the question.

 

“Yeah. It quite literally saves lives once you're inside. Honestly it makes everything easier. Confusing laser pointers, closing people in, all that kind of stuff. I also once used them to climb an air vent up? Not gonna lie, I felt like spider man.”

 

“Yeah, yeah you're amazing,” Niall said with a roll of his eyes and turned his back on him, waiting for him to change out. But Louis' curiosity had been piqued and he turned his full attention to where Harry and Liam were huddled together by the couch.

 

“Harry? If this is too much for you, you don't have to be here. This is aiding and abetting. This is more than just being with me. You could get arrested for this.”

 

But he just shook his head, his curls flying around his face, the colour in his cheeks turning from pink to red shockingly fast. Liam just looked white as a sheet and Louis hoped that he understood that his warning extended to him as well. But he seemed glued to Harry's side.

 

“Hazza?” Louis asked again a bit more urgently. He needed him to be okay with this or at least he needed to know that he would be somewhere safe. He needed Harry to make a decision.

 

“You use duct tape for break-ins?” He asked incredulously, his eyes blown wide, and something that Louis would attribute to arousal washing over his face. But that was neither the time, nor the place, was it?

 

“Yeah, what ever else for? Wait, in the supermarket, what did you think what I was buying it for?”

 

But Harry just avoided his gaze, his eyes trained onto the floor as a new wave of blood rushed to his face, as if his body was trying to drown him from the inside out.

 

And suddenly something clicked, and moments that Louis had brushed off as inconsequential suddenly turned into game changers.

 

“ _For what it's worth I can't recommend duct tape. It isn't the nicest and if you use it wrong it can leave marks.”_

 

“ _Please. I'll be good.”_

 

_Harry's blown out pupils as he had realised his slip up. Gag me if I cross a line._

 

If Harry had thought… if Harry was… they had a lot to talk about after this night. And Louis would definitely not go into that topic right now. Not tonight. But he was a victim to his own imagination as suddenly his brain flooded him with images of Harry bound, of Harry gagged, of Harry begging, and he didn't know where he got his inspiration from. His only experience with bondage had been when he had been a teenager and a girl had wanted to use handcuffs on him, but he had lock picked his way out of them the moment she had called him pumpkin and then he had ran out. Straight into Zayn's arms who had laughed at him for solid two hours before he had calmed down long enough to ask Louis if he was okay.

 

Louis had always known, deep down, that he sometimes yearned to be in control during sex. Knew that his bustling body language was just a result of feeling useless for too long. He needed to feel safe and in control and trusted and his brain had supplied him with plenty of fantasies that could make that true for him. But he had never… gone there. And even if short images had crossed his mind with Harry, he had never thought – hadn't dared believed that it could be something someone else could actually want. With him. Because yes, maybe Niall was right. His plans were usually rubbish and why would someone willingly put all that trust into him?

 

But Harry's blown out pupils, his pigeon toed stance and the cherry red kisses of arousal on his cheeks told a different story. A better one.

 

“Harry, I have to focus on my mission.”

 

“I know,” he squeaked, clearing his throat dramatically. “Of course. Yes.”

 

“We're going to talk about this. When I come home.”

 

Somehow he knew that Harry would understand him. Apparently they would never run out of secrets to share. If this was what their relationship would be based on, then Louis was glad that he had found someone who apparently didn't shy away easily from the ugliness of another person's life. But seemed to embrace every hidden and broken part of Louis that he could get his hands on. No matter how you wanted to describe it, Louis suddenly felt reassured and more confident in Niall's plan and his abilities than he had been just a moment ago.

 

If Harry believed in him and wanted Louis in charge, then he couldn't fail.

 

And then Liam spoke up, and Louis was sure. If anyone could make it, it was them. This mismatched band of know-nothings.

 

“I can drive the get-away car?”

 

 

They agreed to wait three corners away from the MoMA, something that Harry had disputed the whole way there, saying that it was a useless risk, that Louis would need them with him as close as possible, and he had only shut up when Louis had pressed a lingering kiss on his lips, interrupting him in the middle of a sentence.

 

“Harry, you have to stay inconspicuous. Also translatable to: stay hidden, stay out of the way, do not get into trouble and make sure that there will be a get away car to get back to.”

 

Liam's Prius was blue and old and had an unnecessary amount of toilet rolls stocked away in the trunk, as well as three dog beds stashed away under their seats.

 

“How are you going to find us three blocks away though?” Harry mumbled against Louis' finger. They were squished together on the back seat with Niall, while Monet had a comfortable spot on the seat next to Liam. Niall was pressed up against Harry's left, while Louis practically crawled into his lap on his right. And he didn't mind. At all.

 

“Trust me, I'll find you.”

 

And then they had been kissing again, as much a distraction technique for Harry as it was one to keep Louis' mind off of all the things that could go wrong. Whenever Harry felt Louis drift off, his lips becoming slack and his posture tensing up again, he licked more firmly into his mouth. Demanding back his attention, and reminding him that if he freaked out, he would freak out and vice versa. Kissing was all they had to stay sane. And wasn't that a beautiful oxymoron, Harry thought as he felt his mind slip from conscious thought into a dreamland where only Louis existed. Louis' smell, Louis' touch, Louis' lip, Louis' everything. Only Louis.

 

Way too soon they found themselves in front of the museum. A forceful nudge from Niall not enough to make Harry let go of Louis, until Liam pointedly coughed and threatened to honk until the whole neighbourhood woke up. That seemed like incentive enough. And with the wet sound of spit slick lips parting they broke away from each other.

 

“You take care of yourself, okay?” Harry said firmly into the dark of the car, and held Louis' face between his hands, framing his soft features with his big hands and he hated how it did little to reassure him that he would come out of his unscathed. It made him look so small.

 

“That's so I can easily slip through the air vents,” Louis giggled and Harry realised he must have said the last part out loud.

 

“Let me worry about you. You worry about not getting caught and I worry about you.”

 

“Isn't that basically the same thing though?” Louis asked cheekily and leaned in for one more kiss.

 

“It's not. Because I said so.”

 

“If you two love birds are ready?” Niall said with a teasing lilt to his voice and pushed Harry again. “We are kinda working on a time limit here.”

 

“Yes, yes, of course.” Harry mumbled and watched helplessly as Louis climbed out of the car. Watched as he strolled over to the front seat door to haul out the painting and watched as he leaned towards Liam. Watched helplessly confused as Louis whispered something to his best friend, before he pulled back, kicked the door shut, winked at him and left into the night. His clothes making him blend in so quickly that Harry, had he not known better, had said that he had seen a ghost.

 

“So what now?” He asked and started picking at the invisible threads of his jumper.

 

“And now we wait.” Niall answered and shrugged as if it were that simple. Pulling out something that to Harry looked like a rebuild brick version of a Nintendo, Niall settled back into the cushions and began typing away at a rapid pace.

 

After a long moment of absolute silence apart from Niall's constant typing, Liam turned around. His hands were still on the steering wheel, the knuckles on his hand turning white just from the force of his grip, and Harry could see a small line of sweat gathering at his temples.

 

“I don't know if I'm allowed to ask yet, but I'd be ready for an explanation any time now.”

 

Harry's heart shattered at the obvious, if also well overrode, fear in his friend's voice. Liam who was completely out of the loop, but had still offered to drive the get away car, not blinking twice as Louis had screwed off his licence plate and switched it with the one from the car parked next to his. He hadn't stopped once to ask what exactly they were trying to smuggle back into a museum. Hadn't held Harry back for one moment as it had become clear that Harry would follow Louis into whatever trouble would pop up next. He had just stood by silently. A rock of support that never judged and never doubted.

 

“Oh Liam,” Harry said and extended his arm to squeeze Liam's shoulder. “Are you sure you want to know everything?”

 

“Yeah, you could still play the 'I-didn't-know-anything-they-forced-me-to-do-it-all' card.” Niall piped up from the back seat.

 

“I'm literally driving your get away car. I don't think that excuse is going to get me anywhere.”

 

“We could have threatened you with guns?” Niall said, but even he sounded unsure.

 

“You have guns?” Liam asked and his voice took on a whole other level of panic.

 

“No, no they don't. Right Niall? You don't.” Harry tried to appease Liam, but it didn't do much good. And that's how he found himself retelling everything he had learned in the past week to a very anxious Liam. His grip on the steering wheel only loosening when Harry reassured him for the eleventh time that they didn't have guns. Only after the tenth time did he leave out the last part. They didn't have guns _on their side._ He couldn't promise the same about Cowell's little gang of bullies.

 

For Harry it felt like hours that they spent crammed together in that small car, waiting for Louis return not knowing if it might be too late already, not knowing if someone would come knocking on their windows any second asking them to identify themselves. London was in a state of emergency. The random spike in break-ins in Whitechapel had everyone on alert as Niall informed them again and again via live reports from different police radios. Everyone in uniform was freaking out. Most of the citizens not yet privy to what was going down in the middle of their city. They were keeping a lid on everything. And of course they were. Since two thirds of the dispatched police officers were not in fact working for the force, or for the state, but for the highest bidder, who in this case, was not one of the good guys.

 

It felt like days, trickling by like molasses dripping off a spoon, slow and unsteady and seemingly loosing velocity, until suddenly someone did slap their hand against Harry's window, starling him so much that he hit his head on the ceiling of the car, ramming his knee into the divide between the two front seats.

 

Whipping his head to the side, he saw Louis hovering outside the door, pointing at the lock of the door in stunned silence.

 

Jumping into action, Harry scrabbled for the latch of the door and threw it open, almost knocking Louis off his feet. Before he had the time to scramble back into his seat, Louis was climbing on top of him, throwing the door closed with so much force that the car seemed to shake.

 

“Drive, for fuck's sake, drive, Liam!” He shouted and used Harry's body to lean over the gear shift to repeatedly shove Liam's shoulder. “Drive!”

 

Shaking like a leaf, Liam fumbled with the keys, only finding the ignition on the third try.

 

“Did someone follow you? Did something go wrong?” Niall asked and he sounded surprisingly calm in Harry's opinion, considering that if Louis' answered in a double positive, then they would all four soon be dead men.

 

Slumping back onto his seat, Louis shook his head and pulled his beanie off his head. His hair was sticking into every direction, endearingly flat in the back.

 

“No we're fine, I just want to get out of here. That place gave me the creeps.”

 

With a curse Liam accelerated as they drove towards a changing traffic light, its colour switching to red just as Liam hit the junction.

 

Stunned Harry turned towards the jittery boy next to him, whose eyes were wild and hectic, the pupils blown from the chemicals currently cursing through Louis' veins, making everything stand on edge around him.

 

“Did you actually just break into one of the highest security museums in London with about thirty minutes of preparation and didn't get caught?”

 

Turning his manic grin towards him, Louis nodded, biting his bottom lip as if to force down a shrill giggle.

 

“I really did that.”

 

“You are,” Harry held his breath, his body leaning into Louis without his command, his hands lifting to swipe away Louis' fringe, trying to tug the longest strand behind his ears. “amazing. You are amazing.”

 

And looking at Louis like that, with his eyes shimmering in the darkness of the car, his pulse pounding against the skin on his neck, where Harry had put his hand, stroking Louis' jaw with a restless thumb. Seeing Louis with blown out pupils and a manic grin playing around his lips and cheeks that were splotchy with red bruises of colour, seeing him look at Harry with this much happiness and pride and giddiness. What else was Harry supposed to do than lean down and claim Louis' lips with his own.

 

Louis opened up under him like a flower, an almost inaudible gasp escaping him as Harry came crashing down on him. He lifted his arms, like vines on a flower grabbing for the sun, and wound them around Harry's neck. He pulled him down with a desperate kind of force making Harry lose his balance and fall on top of him. In the back of his mind he knew that he would have to apologise to Niall later on. Knew that the shock of tumbling on top of Louis had probably ended with a few harsh kicks to Niall's side, but he couldn't bring himself to think about Niall right now.

 

The sound of their mouths meeting with slick noises turned Harry's inside into fire, his veins burning up, scorching him from the inside.

 

With firm hands on the back of his hands, fingers tangled dangerously tight in his locks, Louis pulled Harry closer and closer, until Harry had no choice but to break away lest he wanted to break his back from the weird position he had found himself in. The need to be close to Louis overpowering any and all ideas of comfort.

 

Kissing Louis once more on the mouth, close lipped and fierce, he leaned back and started fiddling with his seat belt. The needy moans Louis was making next to him were not exactly helpful to his concentration, nor was the heavy weight between his legs that was begging to be touched.

 

The seat buckle ripped open with an unnaturally loud creak, but Harry didn't care. He thought he heard Niall say something to Liam about insurances but it was all background noise as he turned his focus back onto Louis and saw him staring at him with half lidded eyes, his legs spread wide, the black material of his pants stretching obscenely over his thighs. The bulge between his legs not that hard too miss even in the dark.

 

Not thinking twice about it Harry pulled his legs up onto the seats (kicking Niall again in the process) and crawled into Louis' lap.

 

With his knees now holding his weight on both sides of Louis' hips he lowered himself down. Louis was reverently running his hands up and down Harry's sides, tucking his shirt up higher and higher each time, until his hands, ice cold to the touch, found the warm skin of Harry's hips. While trailing his hands over Harry's skin, mapping out his body from his love handles to the dimples in the bottom of his spine, he leaned his head back onto the headrest and stared up at Harry.

 

“I broke into the MoMA and didn't get caught,” he whispered and his voice was laced with astonishment, as if he himself couldn't really believe it.

 

“You did. You are a genius.” Harry leaned down for a kiss. Sucking Louis' bottom lip between his teeth he coaxed Louis' mouth open, licking inside impatiently as soon as Louis opened up.

 

“I'm not a genius, I'm a thief,” Louis mumbled against his lips, before he shifted and rearranged Harry's weight on his thighs, one hand trailing up to clasp the back of Harry's neck. “I'm a thief.”

 

And somehow Harry felt Louis' pride like a second heart beat in his chest, he felt it blooming and begging for attention and he felt it grow with the smile that Louis threw at him as they parted for another breath.

 

Harry didn't know when they finally arrived back at Liam's flat, he had no concept of time any more, not with Louis' hands stroking his skin, not with his lips setting him on fire. But the sudden snippy knock on their window startled him enough to look away from Louis' spit slick and swollen lips and to turn his head to the window.

 

It was Niall, shaking his head at the two of them as he pointed up, indicating that they were going up. A smile was turning the corners of his mouth up and he didn't seem particularly angry at the two of them.

 

“He's going to hold this over my head for months,” Louis said and Harry giggled. He couldn't blame him really.

 

“Do you want to go up? Liam has a guest room.”

 

If possible Louis' gaze darkened even more and the grip he had on Harry's thighs tightened (he had steadily been teasing the inseams of Harry's jeans for hours now).

 

“After you.”

 

Their way upstairs was accompanied by loud laughter as they stumbled their way to the lift, their feet not quite obeying them any more. Walking as closely together as they did it was also hard to tell which limb was whose. Harry felt drunk on whatever it was Louis brought out in him, drunk in a way that he hadn't felt in a long time. Stumbling his way through the dark entrance hall, his face tucked away against Louis' throat and his hand pressed against his lower spine, he felt invincible in a way he had thought impossible.

 

This time they took the elevator. The lift was already waiting for them at the ground floor and Harry only just had the time to press the button for the fourth floor before Louis had him up against the mirrored wall at the back of the stall, his body one smooth line against Harry's.

 

With a firm grip Louis took a hold of Harry's wrists and lifted them above Harry's head. Due to their height difference, Harry couldn't stretch his arms out like that, and his elbows framed his face. His breath hitching as he understood Louis' silent command.

 

_No touching._

 

He gulped in his next breath so greedily that he almost choked on air, Louis' hand so suddenly a pressure on his hard on.

 

“Is this okay?” He asked and even though his hand was firm and sure against Harry's cock, stroking him slowly over the denim of his jeans, his voice betrayed his controlled touch and Harry knew that he had to answer with more than just the needy and hectic nod of his head.

 

“Yes. Please. I won't touch. You touch. Only you.”

 

A satisfied growl ripped itself out of Louis' throat and as if to hide his loud reaction to Harry's surrender he surged forward, latching onto Harry's neck.

 

His teeth were sharp and demanding, marking Harry up as he licked and bit a long line from Harry's jaw down to his Adam's apple.

 

The ding of the elevator arriving at their floor was as distracting as it was a nuisance, because Harry couldn't imagine anything worse than Louis turning around and walking away. Couldn't imagine walking after him. All he wanted was to stay here.

 

But Louis had other plans. Good plans. Even if Harry didn't agree with their urgency.

 

“Bed. Now. Please.”

 

Stubbornly Harry tried to manoeuvre them both out into the hallway without having to loosen his grip on Louis, and they stumbled towards Liam's door with Louis still plastered to Harry's front.

 

“Do you think,” Harry gasped out and bared his neck for Louis' wandering mouth, “do you think we should talk to Niall and Liam and, fuck, Nick?”

 

A bite.

 

“Maybe there's still something to discuss. Like what you did in the MoMA and, fuck Lou.”

 

Louis shook his head, the electrified strands of his hair rubbing softly against Harry's jaw. And Harry didn't have the power to argue any further. Their friends had left the door open for them and Harry kicked it shut as soon as they were over the threshold. Grabbing Louis' hand he turned him around and started tugging him after himself as he made a straight line to Liam's guest room. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Niall and Liam sitting in the living room, Niall on his phone and Liam focused onto the TV where he was streaming the news.

 

None of that mattered.

 

Louis had caught on to where Harry was heading and he had closed the distance between their bodies again, latching onto Harry's back like an overgrown monkey, his hands winding around Harry's middle and slipping under his shirt again.

 

Liam's guest room was nothing special. It was small and quaint and the bed as just big enough to not be called a single, but still a little bit too small to be made for two grown men. The walls were painted a featureless and dull beige, the covers of the bed crisp and white, just like most of the furniture in the room. Not that it encompassed much. It had a small wardrobe, a night stand and something a little bit bigger standing a bit to the left, which once upon a time had surely been intended as a bureau but was now used as a shelf for Liam's freshly washed duvets and towels.

 

This room was a ghost zone.

 

Unlike last time it didn't take them long to take off their clothes. With deft fingers they dug into each other's clothes, ripping open zippers and popping buttons as if it were a contest. They shrugged out of their shirts, standing shirtless and breathless before each other, drinking the other one in.

 

Louis' chest was heaving, his collarbones pronounced in the grey light of the room, the shadows pooling in the dips of his skin softening out his edges. His hand was pressed firmly against his own crotch, his touch more of a reminder to calm down, Harry thought, than a way to pleasure himself. His other hand was steadily hanging by his side, the tremors that were raking through Harry invisible from where Harry was standing.

 

His eyes were calculating Harry's every move, trailing from Harry's heated face to his chest, lingering on his nipples and then dropping to his thighs. Standing only in his boxers before Louis, who radiated benign power from the other side of the room, made Harry's knees buckle. His breath repeatedly got stuck in his throat. He would choke on his own spit if Louis didn't make the next move soon.

 

“It's still a yes?” He said suddenly into the heady silence of the room, his eyes snapping up to Harry's again. Before Harry could nod, Louis held up a finger to silence him. One hand was still pressed to his crotch. “Me deciding when you can touch?”

 

“Yes,” Harry breathed and nodded at the same time. He knew what they were doing. He knew what this meant. He knew that he was diving into something he had before thought impossible. But he wanted Louis to have that control over him. He wanted to please Louis. By following his orders, by letting him set the rules, by offering him his body, just his to touch, his to command.

 

All his worries about letting go of his own control before, about not finding someone he could trust with that, with himself so utterly defenceless. They all flew out of the window as he realised one thing. He wasn't the only one putting everything on the line. Louis wasn't just taking control over him. He was taking control for him. And that made all the difference in the world. Harry offered to forgo touching, trusting Louis to make it up to him. Trusting Louis to _reward_ him. The last thought sent an odd thrill down his spine and Harry moaned.

 

They were standing two feet apart, and Harry already felt himself coming apart at the seams.

 

“Lie down on the bed for me?” Louis asked and his voice sounded rougher than just a moment before. Used.

 

Harry tripped twice on the short walk to the bed, but he didn't care if he looked ridiculous. The bone deep certainty that Louis wanted _him_ was enough for him to block out all ideas of shame. Lying down on his back, Harry stretched his arms over his head, and levelled Louis with a daring look. With nothing more than a whispered please Harry let his thighs fall open, offering himself up to Louis completely and unashamedly.

 

The moment between Louis standing at the edge of the back and him lowering himself on top of Harry was blurred in Harry's mind, all he knew, all he felt was Louis' naked skin against his own, their lips connecting again in a slow kiss.

 

“I want you to turn around,” Louis murmured against his lips and spread his legs over Harry's hips, perching himself on top of Harry's thighs, waiting. He was giving him enough room to roll onto his stomach but not much more. His thighs restraining Harry in a very intimate matter.

 

Stealing one more kiss, Harry turned around, his arms still stretched out before him, and turned his head to the side, trying to blow out a few strands of hair out of his face. Gently hands pulled his hair back from his face, stopping at the dip between his shoulder blades, before they ran down his spine.

 

Louis' finger tips were still a little bit cold, but he retraced his every line with his tongue, hot on cold, and Harry couldn't imagine a better way to melt.

 

It took him a moment to realise that Louis' journey down his spine had a distinct destination and his breath stuttered as Louis let his finger glide over the crack between his cheeks. Keening loudly he pushed himself up on his knees and tried to push back into the ghost of a touch of Louis' finger, but his sudden movement almost dislodged Louis from his throne over Harry's arse and a firm hand on the small of his back pushed him back down again. Where he immediately searched for some kind of friction on his dick instead, fruitfully rubbing himself against the comforter. This wasn't what he wanted. Not now that he was aware of what Louis was planning. He wanted more. He wanted to lean into Louis' touch.

 

“I should have clarified,” Louis' voice rang out, somewhere behind Harry. The rushing of his blood was too loud in his own ears, Louis could have been miles away. “When I said no touching unless I allow it, I should have clarified that it also implied other ways to get yourself off on your own. I decide what you deserve, Harry.”

 

Whining Harry turned his head into the pillow and writhed against the bed.

 

“Do you understand?” The ghost of a touch returned to Harry's arse. The cotton of his pants almost making it impossible to feel Louis' touch.

 

Rubbing his head against the pillow in a desperate attempt to mime a nod, Harry tried to gather enough breath to say yes. When he did, his answer still sounded strangled and foreign to his ears.

 

“Good.” Louis breathed and leaned down to kiss a spot between Harry's shoulders. “I'm going to take off your pants now and I don't want you to rut against the bed once they are off. Okay?”

 

Harry nodded, desperation cutting through his system like a dagger. Distracting Harry with wet kisses up and down his back, Louis slowly pulled his pants down. When they came down to his knees, Harry could feel Louis slide down his body to get a better grip on them. His breath was now hitting Harry's arse, hot puffs of air so innocently ghosting over his over heated skin. Pulling the pants off with one smooth yank, Louis kissed his way up again, starting at the junction of his knees and slowly making his way up again. His hands were showing his mouth the way. Dainty hands rubbing the sensitive skin of Harry's thighs, a quick mouth following their path, teasing teeth nibbling and biting at the white skin.

 

His hands continued their slow path over Harry's cheeks, stopping only in what Harry had come to learn Louis' favourite place Harry's waist, and Harry tensed in anticipation of Louis' tongue cherishing once again what his hands had already claimed.

 

But of course Louis didn't. Of course he didn't, because Harry had moved against the soft material of the blanket, just once, just trying to lessen the pressure on his leaking dick, but he had broken the rules.

 

“Are you uncomfortable?” Louis asked sweetly but Harry knew that something else lay behind those words.

 

“I'm good.” Harry whined and clenched his hands into the pillow above his head. “I didn't mean to – I... I'll be good now.”

 

Suddenly kisses were peppered around Harry's face, a nose tickling him behind his ear. “Shsh, it's okay. You are perfect. But maybe I can make this easier for you? This is your first time after all. No need to be ashamed if you need me to make it easier for you.”

 

“Please,” Harry whimpered and leaned into the soft kisses Louis was pressing into the skin of his cheeks.

 

“Okay, that's good.” He tapped Harry's waist softly. “Up.” It was a single command. But Harry almost melted into the mattress instead of lifting his hips up. Another tap against his burning skin, and he finally obeyed. He lifted his hips slowly, his knees following on instinct until his knees were under his hips, support his weight, while his head and his shoulders were still pressed deeply into the bed. “You're doing very well, babe.”

 

Harry smiled proudly, his eyes closed as he tried to focus only on Louis' voice. Louis ran his hand from Harry's neck, where it had been playing with strands of Harry's hair again, down to his tail bone. The pressure of his hand lessening as he got closer to the end of Harry's spine, bending Harry's spine into a beautiful curve.

 

And then his hand slid down and he cupped one of Harry's cheeks, squeezing, claiming. His other hand mirrored his previous movement, until it also came to rest on Harry's bum, and Harry couldn't help himself but whine softly.

 

The last time he had been rimmed it had been quick and messy and not enough, and it had been done with the sole purpose of getting him wet enough to fuck. It had been dirty and cold and clinical almost. He didn't even remember the guy's name.

 

But it didn't matter now, not with Louis slowly pulling his cheeks apart, blowing softly on his hole, and giggling, _giggling_ as he watched it flutter open and close at the stimulation.

 

“You're beautiful,” he murmured and leaned in, pressing a short and dry kiss to his hole, before nosing his way down to his perineum. His nose bumping into the back of his balls that were hanging heavily between his legs. “You smell amazing.” Another kissed was pressed against his balls, and Harry keened, his thighs already straining where he held himself up, and where he kept himself from moving into Louis' touch. And then Louis' tongue licked a long and broad line from his balls to his tail bone, and Harry moved, twitching away from the intense feeling of being touched so intimately. But Louis' hands held him steady, helped him up again, without a comment. “You taste even better, love.”

 

Snaking one arm around Harry's waist, his wrist brushing against Harry's cock, Louis held Harry in place, before he leaned down again and licked in again. His tongue broad and soft as he licked him again and again with no discernible pattern, just getting him wet.

 

“More, please, more.” Harry's hands were clawing into the pillows above his head, his knuckles straining against his skin as he tried to keep still for Louis.

 

Tightening his grip around Harry's front Louis followed Harry's plea and twirled his tongue around his hole. Nibbling on the puckered skin around it, the light scruff lining his jaw rubbing against the inside of his cheeks and making his skin burn. A pleasant ache so close to where Louis was pleasuring him as if it was the greatest gift had ever given him. Himself.

 

When his tongue suddenly breached him, Harry couldn't help himself but yelp. A sound too loud for this tiny room. Groaning, Louis delved deeper, the vibrations of his throat working through Harry's body, making his cock twitch where it was hanging neglected between his legs. Louis' hand so close to being able to bring him release and yet so far away where he chose to keep his hand to keep Harry upright.

 

Harry could feel a dollop of spit run down his crack and down to his balls and he bit into his biceps to try to stifle another embarrassing sound. But Louis immediately retreated, wiping his mouth messily on one of his cheeks and tapping his fingers restlessly against Harry's waist as if he had to decide on something himself.

 

“Don't do that. I want to hear you.” He finally said and licked in again, moaning loudly into Harry when he followed his orders and keened loudly into the stuffiness of the room.

 

It didn't take long for Harry to come close to the edge. His hair was a sweaty mess at the nape of his neck, sweat slowly sliding down the line of his back and down his temples, his thighs were quaking where Louis held him up, and his arms were cramping up from his fierce grip on the pillows, but all of that didn't matter when he was this close to falling over the edge. His body was strung tight like a bow, everything ready for release but he couldn't, he couldn't, he – whining desperately he pushed back against Louis' face. Desperation making him disregard Louis' warning. He hadn't forgotten that he wasn't allowed to move, but he didn't think he had the words in him any more to tell Louis that he needed to come. Or else, or else – he whined pitifully again. His open mouthed breathing loud in the silence between them.

 

“I got you, Hazza. I got you.” Louis mumbled and kissed around the over sensitive skin of his hole, where beard burn and curious teeth had left quite the mess behind. And then he finally took a hold of his cook, slowly circling him in a loose fist from bottom to tip, revelling in the sounds Harry made. It only took three quick strokes for Harry to fall over the edge, his body already strung so tight that anything more would have torn him apart. With a high pitched groan he came onto Louis' hand, his come splashing onto the bed sheet and dripping down his spent cock.

 

Everything was still a bit fuzzy around the edges of his vision, black spots dancing across his eyes as he tried to regulate his breathing, as Louis draped himself over his back. It didn't need much from Louis to push Harry flat down against the bed again, his body completely spent. Not even the warm spot of his own come that Louis had pushed him into was enough to rouse him again. Finally unclenching his hands from their spot above his head, he tried to reach Louis on his back. His hands finding the soft skin of Louis' thigh first, caressing the soft skin sleepily.

 

“You were amazing,” he whispered, his voice slurred and rough.

 

“Thank you, love,” Louis said and bore his hips down. His still hard dick catching between Harry's thighs.

 

Harry didn't even know what he was asking for, but his litany of yes's meant enough to Louis. And with his face hidden in the sweaty nape of Harry's neck, he started fucking into the space between Harry's thighs, finally taking his own pleasure. Taking it from Harry's body. Because he had been good. So good.

  
“Come on me, Louis, please. Please.”

 

It didn't take Louis long to come between Harry's thighs, smearing his come up his cheeks and onto his thighs as he rode out his orgasm. A smile forming against Harry's shoulder blade as he finally stilled.

 

“I broke into the MoMA for you today,” he mumbled happily and fell asleep on top of Harry. Their come drying between them, as they drifted off into dreamless sleep.

 

 

When Louis woke up he did so to a softly snoring Harry, their legs still entangled but Louis must have slid off Harry's back some time during the night.

 

Not daring to disturb Harry's sleep he untangled himself from Harry's sleep heavy limbs and quickly dressed in last night's clothes again, ignoring the come flaking off his thighs, deeming it unimportant at the moment. He had to have a word with Niall. Something he should have done yesterday probably, but – he smiled at the sleeping body of his lover, who had pulled a pillow to his chest to make up for the heat Louis had taken from the bed. He had a pout on his face, as if someone in his dreams had offended him and Louis could feel his heart skip a beat.

 

The talk with Niall had had to wait. He trusted Niall enough to finish their deal alone. He had given him all the information he needed after all. Including, above all, Zayn's number.

 

Slipping out of the bed room and closing the door again as quietly as he could, he walked into the kitchen, where he could hear the familiar sound of a coffee machine roaring to life.

 

Liam and Niall were both already awake, standing in front of the coffee machine in companionable silence. Their shirts were still ruffled by sleep, so at least Louis didn't have to feel guilty about sleeping in. They didn't seem that awake either.

 

“Morning!” He said cheerfully and had to bite back a chuckle when Liam startled at the sound of his voice. Niall turned around much more relax, his face already set into a teasing grin as he studied Louis from head to toe.

 

“You didn't even shower did you,” he said calmly and threw his head back in laughter as Louis shook his head in response. “You're nasty. I don't know why I like you.”

 

“Because I taught you everything you know?” Louis offered and walked up to Liam who had just filled the first mug with coffee. Snatching the mug out of Liam's hands, Louis pushed himself onto the counter and took a long sip. Liam didn't even bat an eye at Louis cheekiness but poured himself another cup instead.

 

“That's a lie. You did not teach me everything I know. You and I both know that I know more than my fair bit.”

 

“Sure you do,” Louis teased, but they both knew Niall was right. Otherwise last night would have never worked out so smoothly.

  
“Do we have it then?” He asked and watched Niall over the rim of his mug. The coffee was just reminding him how tired he was, the caffeine not kicking in as fast as he had hoped. And that's why he preferred tea.

 

“I already sent it to Nick. It should be on the news in,” he shook his watch out of his sleeve and pursed his lips as he studied it, “give or take half an hour?”

 

“I should wake up Harry then. Liam? Has Niall told you yet?”

 

Liam nodded and smiled. “I haven't told you yet how fucking proud of you I am though. I know we only just met, but Louis, that was incredibly brave. And I am incredibly honoured to call you my friend.”

 

“Always so formal,” Louis laughed but he still leaned forward to crush Liam against his chest. “I think you were the best get-away car driver I've ever had, so kudos to you, my friend.”

 

Liam's smiled and Louis could have sworn that his chest actually swelled with pride. Liam was a special one.

 

Tapping his feet against the cupboards, Louis threw a glance at the TV in the next room. He was more than a little bit apprehensive how the media would report on last night. It was probably not an easy task to summarise everything that had had caused havoc in the heart of London last night, but if everything had gone according to plan, then at least they could be sure that even though it was far from the truth, the media would still tell the right story.

 

It all started at around 10pm last night, as they had made their way down to Liam's car. Harry and Liam had already left the apartment, because Liam had wanted to bring the car around. The more than inconvenient parking situation in London forcing him to park at least two blocks away. And Harry had followed him, because as he had explained to Louis, he couldn't let his friend do this alone.

 

“ _It's a wonder he hasn't fainted yet. I can't leave him alone yet, I think.”_

 

_Louis wanted to tell him that he was pretty sure that Liam was braver and more in control of his emotions than probably all of them together, but he agreed with Harry. He was right that Liam could need a friend by his side. He also knew that he still needed to talk to Niall before anything happened, so he really didn't mind watching Harry set off after his friend, leaving him and Niall alone in the flat._

 

“ _Hey, Niall?”_

 

_Niall hummed in reply._

 

“ _Are you going to tell me the rest of the plan now?”_

 

_Because Louis had been his teacher. He knew Niall in ways that no one else did, and he knew that he had taught Niall enough, had earned enough of his respect to know, that he would never support a robbery this unplanned, without any back-up at all, without any way of making sure that it was worth something._

 

“ _The police black out is Zayn's fault. He planted false evidence of you having stored the painting somewhere in Battersea, and they are going to use the momentarily distraction to try and snatch you up.”_

 

“ _How did Zayn even manage to do that?” Louis asked breathlessly, not even daring to ask why. Maybe this was what family did. Maybe a betrayal meant so little in the grand scheme of things, that it didn't stop you from risking your neck to help. There were too many maybes in their relationship, so Louis tried to focus on the facts at hand. “And what does that have to do with us?”_

 

“ _He set up cameras all around your alleged hide out. My equipment actually so I know that no one is going to notice them and we'll still have beautiful footage. In colour and with audio and everything.”_

 

_There was nothing that Niall was prouder of than his cameras, and even though it took Louis a while to teach Niall to think about other people also having high resolution cameras that could get his pretty face on tape and get him behind bars, he would never dare suggest that he knew more about the technicalities of it than Niall. He had always had his backer at his side, some anonymous soul he had found by accident who lived for the thrill of hacking themselves into high security facilities. But Niall knew his way around without any help._

 

“ _So we're going to wait them out? Wait for them to come to whatever hide out Zayn has picked, wait for them to realise that they have been fooled and then just, what?”_

 

“ _What I said earlier is still true. You breaking into the MoMA is our only way of truly securing the painting. Because after tonight? The security around London is going to go up like crazy and breaking into any art museum is going to be fucking impossible after they find the Waterloo Bridge safely returned to them. They media hype is going to make it impossible to even think about taking that painting back. You on the other hand? You are lucky enough to be up against idiots. They literally played themselves by doing this black out. It's a weapon they can only use once, and after that? No one is going to believe them any more. But luckily for you, Zayn is a great liar, and they are fucking sure of themselves that they are going to get their hands on you tonight. So they went all out.”_

 

“ _That all sounds brilliant, but I'm still slightly concerned about them finding out that we've played them. They must know that Zayn was the breach right?” Worrying about Zayn was not a new emotion but it definitely wasn't something Louis was still used to. The ache inside his chest was almost unbearable as old wounds were ripped open again. Louis had always looked out for Zayn. He would not risk Zayn getting eaten by wolves by his one attempt to pay him back. He wouldn't let him be that dumb._

 

“ _Well, you haven't heard the best part yet. The place that Zayn picked? Very easy to lock people inside. It's all very high-tech you know? You press one wrong button and oops, suddenly the doors won't open any more. Tragic really.”_

 

“ _Niall,” Louis said with a warning edge in his voice, because if Niall was implying what he thought he was implying, then…_

 

“ _Remember when you gave me extra homework because I was annoying you?”_

 

“ _You mean the only homework I ever gave you?”_

 

“ _Exactly that one. Well you did tell me to hack something into pieces until I couldn't lift my arms again, right?”_

 

“ _Which was a joke.” Louis stressed, but Niall only laughed good-naturedly._

 

“ _I know that's why I never turned the assignment in. But you were right that I needed something to get rid off my superfluous energy right?”_

 

_Louis crossed his arms as he remember why he had told Niall to get rid of his unnecessary abundance of energy. It had been a Sunday morning and Louis had wanted to sleep in. But Niall had used his newly learned tricks at lock picking to break into his apartment and had started daydreaming out loud about what great deed of his could be worthy of renaming entire cities._

 

_Just the day before they had stayed awake until 3am to discuss the merits of leather gloves over rubber ones. And Louis had made Niall promise to not bother him the next day, but apparently it had fallen on deaf ears. His punishment was well chosen in Louis' opinion._

 

_He should have known that Niall would use it for his own good._

 

_But it wasn't really the right time to complain. Not when Niall's abundance of energy was apparently what would get them out of this mess._

 

“ _Anyway, so I saw this abandoned building? They just built it as well, but you know how it is. The rich guys are all so sure that money is the only way the world goes round and then they throw away millions of pounds for one ugly as fuck building and surprise, surprise, no one can afford to move in. But you know that already. As I was saying, I was bored, you had kicked me out, and you had given me quite clear instructions and what else was I supposed to do on such a beautiful Sunday morning than rewire the entire building Star Trek style. You should see the doors, man. I am an artist. Niall the creator. Do you think that's going to stick?”_

 

And so it came down to this: Niall and Zayn had build the perfect prison in the middle of the city and they were going to lure all the bad guys in there while Louis would bring their prized possession to safety. They would get each and every one of their pretty faces on tape, and then, once the time was right, they would release them again. Their signal? As soon as Harry, Louis, Liam and Niall were all safely at home it would be Niall's job to start the alarm at the MoMA. Easy once Louis had planted the right equipment at the right place.

 

Even with a police black out, people would come running. And they would see The Waterloo Bridge hanging proudly in the foyer of the Museum of Modern Art. A little note attached to it, apologising for the inconvenience and asking future curators to give the long lost painting special attention. Just something of a personal touch. Louis hadn't lied when he had said that he liked leaving something behind to be remembered by.

 

All it needed then was to release the footage from Battersea to the media with a long letter from one of Nick's contacts, explaining that they had irrefutable proof that the culprits of Whitechapel were linked to the people on tape. Even if the prosecution wasn't that quick, it would leave a considerable dent in Cowell's kingdom. So many faces? Suddenly out in the open?

 

Anonymity was the only working currency in a thief's monarchy. If you couldn't offer your subjects anonymity any more? Then your kingdom would very soon be very empty. And Louis couldn't wait to see Simon Cowell reign over nothing.

 

Hopefully the small matter of Waterloo Bridge would be forgotten in the hailstorm the tape would bring over the media. The shame of the painting being returned by a thief hopefully too big to make it public until everyone could be sure that the repercussion would only be small.

 

It was all image. No one truly cared about the facts. Louis had had to learn that the hard way. Had fought against that belief with Nick for years. Too fed up with Nick's high and mighty: 'Nothing can touch me' attitude, that he had started to rebel against the entire idea. But Louis wasn't averse to admitting his faults. And in the end: the world was as shallow as Nick had said. All it took was the right name on a piece of paper, a few false leads, a few shocking facts to make the information saleable to the public, and then you had the perfect scandal. And everyone believed it.

 

Harry came strolling into the kitchen shortly after Louis. Apparently the pillow had not been a good substitute for Louis and no matter how gently Louis had tried to extricate himself from the warm and soft boy next to him, he had still woken him up.

 

“Morning,” he smiled warmly and raised his cup in a small greeting. Harry's brows were furrowed as he watched the three of them standing together, smiling brightly.

 

“Are there any news on Cowell? Or the painting?” He asked and rubbed his eyes sleepily. The shirt he had slipped on in a haste riding up on his hips with the movement.

 

“The news are on in five. Why don't we talk then?” Louis said shyly.

 

Throwing a cutely confused look in Louis' direction, Harry nodded and made grabby hands for one of their coffee mugs, thanking Niall with a kiss to his cheek when he handed his mug over.

 

“Thank you, Niall.” He sing-songed and walked closer towards Louis, coming to stand between his legs.

 

“Good morning, Louis William Tomlinson.” His eyes were fondly looking down on Louis, making him blush and smile just as dopey back up at him.

 

“It is a good morning.”

 

 

 

“ _Breaking News: Last night London's public was left to their own devices as the police failed to defuse a robbery gone wrong in Whitechapel. The failure of last night's police work should be a deterrent example of what can go wrong if even the police doesn't pay attention to the facts. The rash decision to dispatch two thirds of the police men and women working the night shift last night has already been criticised by state and...”_

 

 

At night, when Harry and Louis were lying in bed together again, their skin cooling down, their chests still heaving, their limbs entangled and their hands entwined, Harry asked Louis something in a quiet voice.

 

“Why didn't you tell me? The full plan, I mean?”

 

“Because if something had gone wrong, you could have played the 'I-didn't-know-anything-they-forced-me-to-do-it-all' card and you would have been safe.”

 

“I was literally in the get away car, Louis.” Harry said incredulously, mirroring Liam's indignant reply.

 

Louis' answering laugh was loud and high and Harry could help himself but join in.

 

Years down the road, Harry thought he might have finally understood.

 

 


End file.
